Day One
by Dean Moxley
Summary: Their frequent abuse told her that she was never going to make it. For a while, she believed them. After all, who would believe that a practically homeless girl from Union City, New Jersey would ever become a televised wrestling diva? The deranged mind of an equally abused boy from Cincinnati, Ohio did. Dean/AJ with CM Punk later on. M for language and adult situations.
1. 1998

So this past week I've gorged myself with Jon Moxley promos from pre-WWE days and my, my, my, is he fun to watch. Recently I got into my head about paring AJ Lee and Dean Ambrose together and I've been obsessed with the pairing ever since.

This story will be the result of my sudden obsession and I really hope it goes well. A note to everyone, I will be using real names throughout the entire story. Ring names will only be used when, and if, necessary.

Disclaimer: I own nothing. The characters of AJ Lee, Dean Ambrose, and CM Punk are properties of World Wrestling Entertainment. April Mendez, Jonathan Good, and Phillip Brooks own themselves.

* * *

**_Union City, New Jersey - 1998_**

She sat on the bench, wrapping her hands with the white tape that she saw every other wrestler use. She kept her head low and focused on the task at hand than at the jeering boys that passed her. She felt the strong urge to reach up and rub the bridge of her nose, but she knew that if she did that, it would give away the fact that she wanted to cry.

A tall boy, lean and loaded with muscles, no older than the age of sixteen, passed and kicked her foot out of her position, sending the sitting pre-adolescent stumbling to the floor. This only caused the entire boys locker room to erupt in laughter.

She landed on her knees, with her swollen wrist saving her from falling face first into the wet concrete floor. She whimpered quietly as the pain shot up her entire arm. The boy, who went by the name of Kyle Brody, turned around and feigned shock. "Oh shit April, did I hurt you? Sorry, I think I miss took you for a wrestler," he readjusted his nonexistent glasses on his perfectly chiseled nose. "Might want to get glasses, do you know a good optometrist? I mean, you have to know one, with those two inch thick glasses you're wearing." He only smirked down at her as the boys behind him laughed again.

She looked up at him and gave him the nastiest glare she could muster. Slowly, she rose to her feet and sat down, cradling her injured wrist to her chest. This simple action, however, seemed to anger Brody. His milky white face turned a slight pink with anger and his golden brows furrowed together. "Why the hell are you here AJ? You know damn well that you don't belong here, so why is it that every single fucking day that I walk through those doors, I see you getting all prepped up for a match that you're just never going to get?"

She glared at him again. As soon as she opened her mouth, however, Brody cut her off again. "No, you know what; you don't get to talk to me. Do you know who I am? I'm Kyle fucking Brody. I'm somebody in this circuit, unlike you, okay? Come Scout Day, I'll get picked an-..." his expression suddenly changed so rapidly that it caught her off guard. Instead of being pink with rage, he returned to his white complexion and a kind, almost gentle smile, graced his beautiful face.

He knelt down in front of her and smiled warmly at her. She furrowed her brows in confusion and pursed her lips. She looked over the face of the most attractive wrestler in the circuit with hesitation. His perfectly squared jaw was sharp, his cheek bones high and prominent, his nose narrow, his eyes blue and bright, and his hair just a beautiful shade of gold. She couldn't help but take a double take at his eyes though.

While his face and body mimicked that of sympathy and gentleness, his eyes were not. In depth, she saw the hatred and the rage swimming in the pools of blue. He leaned forward and placed his icy cold hands on her knees gently. She didn't want to admit it, but the feeling of his cool skin against her heated flesh felt nice.

"... and you know what? When I get picked by the World Wrestling Federation, I'll talk to my Scout and convince them to bring you too," she found it almost comical how all the teenage boys gasped at Brody's words. She saw the disgust and anger in each of their faces. Despite his body language and said words, she knew the real interior of Kyle Brody. Then she felt the pressure from his hands on her knees turn almost painful as he pressed his thumb harshly into her patellar tendon. She turned her head away the second he opened his mouth, already knowing that his next words were anything but kind. "Every WWF superstar deserves a bitch at their feet."

With the eruption of the locker room again, she clenched her fist, the tape long forgotten, pushed his hands away from her knees, and all but ran out of the compressed room. She had received worse verbal lashings before, but this was a first from Brody. He spat insults at her when she was the last in the locker room to leave or taunted her when she trained, but he always did so when they were alone. Never in front of his friends and the entire CYW locker room.

She passed the rest of the old lockers and quickly spun her combination in, biting on her lip as the tears threatened to spill. After her locker just refused to open, her eyesight completely clouded with tears, she gave out a small cry and collapsed against the locker, letting out the frustration, anger, and depression she felt throughout the entire day out. So she just leaned against the cold metal, brought her knees to her chest, and rested her forehead against her tender knees.

"Shh, it's okay, I'm fine, we're fine, you're fine..." she muttered to herself, breathing in and out to level her breathing and erratic heartbeat down. "Ignore them AJ, they're just idiots, don't let them mess with you." She was only her talking to herself, but her heartbeat seemed to slow down enough to breath normally. "You are so much better than them. You don't need them. You got this. You can do this."

After ten minutes sitting at the foot on the lockers, she sighed and brought her hand to brush her hair out of the way as she shakily stood up. Bringing both her eyes to brush any remaining tears away, she then inputted her combination and grabbed her duffle and keys.

Slipping her sweater on and slinging her duffle across her chest, she quietly walked her way out of the abandon warehouse where she competed in. Unlocking her bike at the rear entrance of the aged building, she took a second look at the worn out structure.

She couldn't help but smile ruefully. "I'll make it one day, just watch..."

* * *

_**Cincinnati, Ohio - 1998**_

"What the _fuck_ are you doing Jonathan? Get the over here now!" The voice that was supposed to make his heart swell with love and adoration only brought a terrible shiver to his spine. He was terrified of leaving his room in fear of what his mother's boyfriend could do to him. At thirteen, he was more than independent and he didn't need anyone to tell him what to do.

But David had been drinking, and he always hated when he was drinking.

Carefully, Jon opened the door and slightly peeked his head out, his grey blue eyes hyper aware of his every surrounding. He noticed the dingy couch, splattered with various spilled drinks and reeking of the stench of cigarettes. The filthy dining room table, littered with full and half empty bottles of Jack and surrounded with more debris and butts from cigarettes. The tiny living area was graced with a deadly cloud of smoke that made him wheeze.

However, the giant sack of shit that made up his mother's boyfriend wasn't in sight. "Jon! Where the fuck are you? Do you want me to beat your ass again?" The fifteen year old froze when his mind registered where David was. Turning his head, he focused his gaze on the closed, and most likely locked, bathroom door.

The fucking bathroom.

Ever since his five year old head gripped the idea that the bathroom wasn't a nice place to be, he avoided the place like a plague. If he needed to shower, then he'd go to school at least an hour early to use the showering facilities the school offered. He'd go to the bathroom before, during, and after school to avoid using the bathroom at home.

"_Jonathan!_"

With one swift motion, he shut his eyes and gripped the unnaturally cold feeling of the handle, opened the door.

He wanted to keep his eyes closed, he wanted to avoid seeing all the terrible things the bathroom held, but if he did, he was a 100% sure he'd get his ass beat. Opening his eyes one by one, he saw David on the floor of the dirty bathroom, his pants to his ankles and a joint in one hand. Lying naked in the tub next to him, his mother's pale arm was wrapped tight in David's belt with several injection marks near her antecubital. A single syringe in her near limp hand.

He bit on his tongue and gripped the handle to keep himself from crying out.

Lazily rolling his head to meet Jon's, David smiled. "_Jooonnn,_" he felt his skin crawl hearing his name come from his mouth, "why don't you run down to the store and get me me some _moreee_," his voice trailed off as he patted the area around him, no doubt looking for his drugs. Finding the tiny bag filled with cocaine, David smiled as he motioned for Jon to come closer.

He hesitated.

The lazy smiled that the joint put on David's face instantly disappeared. Watching as the large man stumbled to get up, Jon shrunk in fear. He hated the way that he always reacted violently to David, but almost daily he sat there and took his beatings like a man, even though deep down inside he felt like a little bitch.

Foolishly, he made a quick glance for the door. How he hoped he could just run, run out of the tiny apartment, run out of the trouble he was always finding himself in, he just wanted to run out of this torturous life that he lived in. Snapping his head back, he locked eyes with David, who gave him another skin crawling smile.

He paled.

"You want to run boy?" _Fuck. _"You want to see if you can make it out? Is that what you want?" The high that David had been in was all gone as he took unsteady steps toward him. The pants that pooled around David's fat legs halted his trek only a few times, and Jon could of wished that he _had_ run earlier, but it was too late.

Grabbing him by hem of his shirt, David slammed him to the wall behind him. Jon turned his head the opposite direction as David's hot breath blew down his neck. "Don't fuck with me you little shit. Who the fuck do you think you are?" David roared into his ear, "You're fucking nobody and you always will be! When I tell you to come here, you will fucking listen to me!" Spurred by his own words, his grip tightened and he slammed the boy into the wall again, this time pressing his sweaty body against his.

He pursed his lips and bit his tongue to refrain himself from crying as David said more vile things in his ear, he tried not to focus on how absolutely disgusted he felt as David continued to press his naked lower body into his.

He wouldn't give this man the pleasure of seeing him cry.

The grip he had on his shirt eventually went away and Jon crumbled to the floor. Kneeling down, David harshly gripped his dark blond hair and neared his head so his impossibly thin lips were inches from the shell of his ear. "You still want to run Jonathan? You still want to fucking run?" his voice increased as he stood, bringing Jon to stand to his feet, "then fucking run!" Pushing the boy violently, it sent Jon crashing to the floor.

Without looking back, Jon scrambled to get up and he bolted toward the door, breathing harshly as David's hideous cackle invaded his mind.

It was raining, the heavy sleets of rain completely drenching Jon as he ran. He didn't know where he was going, he just kept his head down and stared at his feet and went where ever they carried him.

He hated him. He fucking _hated_ him. And he wanted him to die. Too absorbed him his own thoughts, he didn't see himself running into an blocked off alley. Running straight into a solid brick wall, Jon crashed to the floor. Groaning, he picked himself up and huddled in the corner of the alley, his knees pressed to his chest and his fists clenched.

_"Jooonnn,"_

It only took him a second to remember the way he called his name before the tears came streaming down his face. He didn't deserve it, he didn't deserve shit, yet David was more than ready to give him that.

_"You're fucking nobody and you always will be!"_

"I am somebody, you piece of fucking shit!" He cried to himself, pounding his fists against his knees, the heavy rain covering his tears, "I will fucking be someone!"

He was glad that the alleyway was abandoned. He was glad that it was raining. He didn't want anyone seeing Jonathan fucking Good crying his eyes out. It wasn't in his nature to cry like a pussy, but _goddamn it_, it broke his already shattered heart more seeing his mother that way. He had lost count of many times he had told her to leave David, but she'd only tell him to shut the fuck up because he didn't know any better.

And so he would stand there and let her destroy her own life by letting the fucking monster she loved control hers.

After half an hour of pouring rain, the rain finally let up. He didn't move from his position; he wasn't ready to go home. He wasn't ready to face his probably sobered mother or the intoxicated fuck that was her boyfriend, so he continued to sit there.

Finally, after the discomfort from sitting in the same position for close to an hour got to him, he stood up. Letting his head fall back, he leaned against the brick wall and briefly enjoyed the cold raindrops that splattered around his face. "I'll make it one day, just watch..."

* * *

So this is my first attempt at any character paring and I really want to get some feedback on it.

Should I continue? Stop? Please let me know, reviews are very much appreciated. If I manage to get at _least _ five reviews, I'm more than happy to post chapter two!


	2. 2000

So instead of painting mural size banners for my cross country team at two in the morning like I was supposed to, I decided to sit down and write chapter two.

**A/N:** For every chapter, the year will change to two extra years. For example, in the first chapter, it was 1998, while this one takes place in 2000. Next chapter will be in 2002 and the one that succeeds that will be 2004. Eventually though, around chapter four or five, the time range will go from biyearly to daily and, if needed, monthly.

**A/N:** Also, for those of you who don't read or speak Spanish, the translation of the words will be at the end of the paragraphs. Another note for those that do, since Spanish is my second language, my translations are not the best. I translate them in the way I say them, not how they are properly written. If I did that, then I'd be annoying myself with sounding way to proper.

**Disclaimer:** I own nothing. The characters of AJ Lee, Dean Ambrose, and CM Punk are properties of World Wrestling Entertainment. April Mendez, Jonathan Good, and Phillip Brooks own themselves.

Enjoy!

* * *

_**Union City, New Jersey - 2000**_

April opened the door slightly and peeked her eye through the small opening. It was six in the evening and she knew her mother would be pissed when she found out that she had been out so late again. She bit on her lip, briefly pondering the fact whether she should tell her mother that she had been out training. She snorted as she let herself in. If she did that, then her mother would do everything in her power to refrain her from even thinking about wrestling.

_"It was a man's sport,"_ she imitated her mother saying as she expertly hid her duffle under a pile of clothing in the closet. _"It's no place for a woman."_ Sighing loudly, AJ just stared at the unnatural lump of sweaters in the closet, her wrestling duffle underneath them. For the past three years, she had lied to her mother and sister about where she was going after school. It would always be an,_ 'I have tests to study for'_ or a,_ 'I have a lot of homework'_, but because of her amazing success in school, they didn't question her.

But there was only so many times that she could lie to them and not get caught. She felt it in her blood that she was going to get caught soon.

She just didn't think it would be today.

"April Jeanette Méndez! ¿Dónde demonios has estado? Do you know how late it is?" She froze when she heard her mother clamor. Turning around, she felt herself relax a little when her mother wasn't in sight, but the noises of a knife meeting the cutting board signalized that she was in the kitchen. _(Where in the hell have you been?)_

Walking hesitantly to the kitchen, she heard the new voice of her sister pipe up. "No sabes má? She's always studying, that's why she's never here." Even though Vanessa's words acted like a defense for April, the icy cold tone in them told her that her sister, too, was angry. _(You don't know mom?)_

Shame filled her heart as she appeared in the kitchen where her mother and sister where chopping tomatoes and onions for dinner. Her mother looked up and glared at her, her face void of any emotion. Despite that, April could tell that she was beyond pissed. "Do you know what I have to go through? I go to work at four in the morning and come back at six," she ranted, her gaze returning back to the chopped vegetables. "¿Y para qué? To come home to a dirty apartment and two huevonas que no hacen nada!" _(And for what? Lazy asses that don't do anything!)_

Vanessa brought her eyes up stare harshly at April. She silently tried to beg her to not say anything, but Vanessa wasn't having it. "Don't be yelling at me mom, tell AJ. She's the one that's never here! I come home from school and I study here! I don't know why the hell she has to go to the library to study!"

This time, she couldn't help herself from butting in. Glaring at her sister, she spoke, "I go the library to keep my grades up! That's why!" she lied, "And you know what? It's working for me!"

"¡Basta! Ya no los quiero oír!" Instantly, both girls stopped talking. Giving one more look at her sister, Nessa resumed her cutting. Snapping to look at April, she hung her head as her mother's eyes bore into her head. "Sin excusas ni protesta, I want you here when school gets out. I will have Nessa pick you up if I have too, but AJ, you are no longer staying out." _(Enough! I don't want to hear you too anymore!) (Without excuses nor protest,)_

Even though she had absolutely no friends in the CYW locker room and they made it crystal clear that she was not welcomed, she'd be dammed if she left. While she may be dependent on her family for food and shelter, but she was not about to let Kyle Brody think that after his years of torturous abuse, he had finally won. "But ma! I need to stay! I promise I'll come home earlier to clean, but I need to stay after school!"

She instantly realized her mistake. Both mother and sister stopped chopping and looked up with questionable glances. "¿Y por qué? Why are you so determined to stay after school?" _(And why?)_

"I... uh.. need to stay because..." The library excuse would no longer work and her brain rambled to find an excuse that would.

She was finally thankful for her sister's phone, which rang loudly in her pants. Wiping her hands clean with a rag that her mother handed her, Vanessa picked up her phone with bright and happy tone. April scowled at her sister.

"April, come help me with the arroz. Nessa ya se va ir." Sighing, April made her way to the counter, where she picked up Nessa's previous task and resumed with the tomato chopping. _(Rice.) (Nessa is about to leave.)_

"Mamá, George is here. I'll be back before midnight," shutting her phone, Nessa moved to kiss her mother's wrinkled cheek. She only regarded AJ with a roll of the eyes as she made her way to the front of the door. She rolled her eyes right back at her as she went for the chilies her mother handed her.

"Take a sweater! It's freezing out!" Her mother called. Suddenly remembering where she had hid her duffle, she stopped. Her heart began to beat faster and harder when she heard Nessa's annoyed remark.

"Donde estan?" _(Where are they?)_

"I put all the sweaters in the closet!"

At this point, she had forgotten about the chilies. Her mind was reeling with fear of Vanessa finding her bag and she prayed that she wouldn't. They would scold and criticize her about wanting to become a professional wrestler. As the time would go on, they would speak themselves and their thoughts deep into her head and lower her already low self-esteem to an all new low. Her mother and sister had such a short temper that she never argued with them and readily agreed with everything they said, but she knew that if Vanessa found the bag, she wouldn't be able to do anything about _her_ attitude.

The sound of the wooden door groaning as it opened thundered in her ears as she held in her breath and closed her eyes. She kept her fists tightly clenched and clutched the knife in her hand and tried to level her breathing when she heard Vanessa look through the pile and stack of once made clothing. Due to her eyes being closed, she didn't see her mother give her more stares. "What's wrong with you?"

She didn't answer though. She blocked her mother out and tried to focus on Vanessa, but she heard nothing. Not the sound of an ugly sweater or shirt being thrown out of the way or the sound of a shoe box dropping.

Nothing.

"April?" Her mother questioned again, but this time, she opened her eyes and turned to look at her mom. She smiled and shook her head before returning to the long forgotten chilies. _She didn't find it. You're okay, you're okay._

Sadly, she wasn't.

"What is this?!" Her sister yelled. Snapping her head to look at her, all the color drained from April's face as Vanessa stood at the foot of the kitchen, a sweater in one hand, her duffle in the other, and an enraged expression on her face.

The bag was an army camo colored duffle, with the words 'CYW Wrestling' in thick varsity lettering on the side. Underneath it, a once white stripe where the name was supposed to be was dirtied with years of abuse. The strap that held the bag together was tapped back with duct tape and the padding was multiple sheets of bathroom paper and cotton balls tapped in masking tape that had become pliable. The duffle brought along a horrid stench of sweat and musk, but that was the least of April's problems.

In the white strip, where previous mud stains left a yellow trail across it, it read:

_'Miss April Lee'._

Vanessa's dark caramel colored skin turned red when she didn't answer. How could she? How could she possibly answer her when in less than twenty minutes, they would, more than likely, verbally beat her? Then they would yell all the imperfections that she had at her before turning and judging her for her lack of respect for herself for even wanting to wrestle, and it would leave her with an aching pain in her heart that even Brody's words couldn't inflict. "AJ, what the fuck is this?"

April glanced over at her mother, who had walked over to Vanessa and took the duffle from her hands. She waited for her mother to say something, but with each second that passed, she was getting more and more nervous. Her mother just stood there, silently looking at the bag, moving it and inspecting it, before her eyes glazed over at the name tag.

"April, ¿qué es esto?" _(What is this?)_

Tears she didn't know she had begun streaming down her face as she dropped the knife and turned to her mother. "It's nothing mom, it's nothing!" she cried, bringing her hands together to wring them. "It's a friends! She asked me to hold it for her!" More lies spewed out of her mouth and she never wanted herself to shut more than at this moment. Her lies were what got her in this position in the first place and now they weren't going to do anything to get her out.

Vanessa caught her lie instantly and glared. "That's a fucking lie! Which one of your friends is named April? Huh? None of them! Why the hell are you lying?" April hopelessly looked at her mother for help, but she knew it was almost foolish too. Usually, her mother would berate Vanessa for swearing in front of her or for being unnaturally cruel to April, but now, it looked as though she was approving everything Vanessa was yelling at her for.

The thought alone brought more tears to her eyes. Even though fear and sadness was currently pooling in her mind, anger was quick to overpower them all. "Because I know none of you will approve! None of you would have supported me to be a wrestler!" She exploded, more tears streaming down her face, "you would encouraged me to become nothing because that's what you guys do!"

Vanessa looked taken back by her sister's outburst, but when she opened her mouth to fire right back at her, her mother cut her off. "We don't support you? We don't support you?!" Her mother's voice rose to the point of yelling as she dropped the duffle to the floor and kicked it away. "Aye hija, perdóname for having to work to the bone for you to be able to eat! I can't support you for anything porque somos pobre!" _(Oh daughter, forgive me...) (because we are poor!)_

April harshly turned her head to the side hearing her mother's words. She, out of all people, knew they were poor. Currently living in the tiny apartment that they were barely able to afford, it was one of the luxuries that she didn't take for granted. She remembered the days where the three of them would be forced into the tiny two bedroom apartment with her aunt and uncle and their five kids. Despite not being able to even stretch due to the place being over packed, there was no doubt that they had hit their all-time low when they were forced to live in her mother's sedan for close to two months.

"AJ," the change in tone in her mother's voice caught her attention. "Do you know that none of them are ever succeed in life? Por supuesto, estan famosos, they have their high moments in fame, but then what? They go into drugs and depression and then they're done. Is that what you want AJ?" Her mother barked at her, her dark brown eyebrows furrowing together in anger. "And you want to know what the worst part about it is? Eres una niña April! Us woman won't be taken seriously and you know that!" _(Of course, they're famous...) (You're a woman!)_

AJ did know that. She knew that better than anyone would of thought.

_'... you know damn well that you don't belong here, so why is it that every single fucking day that I walk through those doors, I see you getting all prepped up for a match that you're just never going to get?'_ Brody's words rang clear in her head and it brought her already depressed state of mind lower. "There are women wrestlers and I will be one of them!"

Her mother scoffed angrily at her, not believing a word she was saying. "Oh sí, apuesto a que lo harás, but tell me April, why do you want to become a wrestler?" _(Oh yeah, I bet you are...)_

Hearing the question come from her mother made her confused. Why did she want to be a wrestler? She knew the answer like she knew how to count, but why did it matter? Why did they question it? "I want to become a wrestler because I love wrestling."

This time, Vanessa cut her mother off. "Wrestling? You mean that pathetic gay shit that's on T.V.?" when April glared at her, Nessa laughed humorlessly, "Are you fucking kidding me? That's not wrestling AJ, that's nearly naked men fighting to get on top of each other! That's angry women ripping each other's clothes off for the attention of a man!"

Hearing the words that would of broken her brother's heart, she completely lost it. "You wouldn't understand! None of you ever will! The only person who ever understood me in this family was Chris!" April bawled, her heart beating in her ears. Blinking away the tears that were clouding her vision, April didn't bother with the pained expression on their faces. Bending down to pick up her duffle, she pushed her way past Vanessa and her mother to quickly grab her school bag, which lay on the floor that was carelessly thrown earlier by her sister.

"Chris would have supported me," she said as she opened the front door of the apartment. Looking back at her crying mother and heartbroken sister and feeling the slightest form of regret, April couldn't bring herself to talk to either of them. "Even though none of you will."

And with that, she was gone.

* * *

_**Cincinnati, Ohio - 2000**_

Lying on his bed, his back facing the door, he quietly counted the raindrops that landed on his single pane window. The January weather was not being nice today; the snow from last week already left the apartment a whopping 34 degrees. The heavy rain that washed over them, however, did absolutely nothing good as it lowered the temperature by another four degrees.

"This is fucking bullshit man," Jon seethed, throwing the heavy blanket off himself as he padded his way out of his room and out to the hallway. Looking at the thermostat, he readily punched the wall when he realized it was broken. "And the piece of shit does nothing to fucking fix it."

Growling, he returned to his room and made sure to lock the door behind him. He walked towards the multiple black trash bags at the foot of his bed and began searching for a new pair of socks; the three pairs he was already wearing did nothing to warm his stiff feet. Mumbling incoherent ramblings, he hastily slipped on his worn out shoes and made his way to this bed.

"It's Friday night and where the fuck am I? Huddling up in the fucking corner because I have nowhere else to go," he bit, sliding under his covers and held his blanket close to his chest. At this point, the sound of the rain hitting the window was he only thing he heard.

"Be grateful you ungrateful fuck, it could be so much worse right now." He knew it was bruising his nonexistent ego when he started talking to himself, but he was literally so lonely.

But it hit an all-time low when he responded to himself._ "Yeah? And what's that Good?"_

He snorted. "Your beloved mother could bring another David home right now and you're going to be able to hear the money that will put food on the table tomorrow be made." He wanted to punch himself in the throat as he shuttered. It never failed to anger him beyond belief when a mental image of his mother selling her body to countless men entered his head.

Yeah, he was fifteen years old and less experience in the working world, but he knew that if David actually had the fucking brains to go to work every day instead of pissing away hundreds of dollars a day on strippers and alcohol, maybe his mother didn't have to sell her body to make sure Jon survived.

"Just shut the fuck up and try to go to sleep." He closed his eyes and muttered to himself.

_"Its 5 o'clock in the evening Jon, who the fuck goes to sleep now?"_ He berated himself as he once again threw the covers off. Staring up at the rough textured ceiling, he allowed his own mind to wander to effectively kill time.

School today had been uneventful, as it always was. At first, when he was younger, he adored school. Back then, it was easy to make friends. Children could talk to anyone and everyone and they'd instantly become lifelong friends. Now, though, it was more of a routine for him; go to class, stare mindlessly at the board, sometimes the teacher, and repeat for the next six classes, with the twenty and half hour breaks of nutrition and lunch.

Even during the time where the students were given a break, he still sat there, with the equally bored kids that were his friends, and they just judged people. Everything from the way the uptight nerds cowered away from the presence of jocks, to the way how hideous looking girls looked in their terrible taste for clothing.

Then, school would end. Since he was then anti-social fuck that he was, he had nowhere to go. Usually, when the idea of coming home to either an empty freezing home, a drunken or high piece of shit, or a "working" mother didn't please him, he'd roam the streets of East Cincinnati.

That was as adventurous as it got. Soon afterwards, he'd come home, enter his room, lock the door, and sit down and do his homework. He might not of paid attention a good 99% of the time in class, but he wasn't about to let his failure in school become another weapon for David to use against him. The four solid A's and two B's on the printed paper his teacher gave him acted as a protective bubble when David fought to find more excuses for Jon to bring his self-esteem lower.

Aside from_ 'being the son of his mother'_, and_ 'an ugly street child'_, David usually ended with beating and violating Jon before he stalked off to buy more cocaine.

Feeling his mind fizzle out and sleep finally creep up on him, he took a deep breath and closed his eyes. The persistent jingling from the front door, however, brought him out of his almost stupor.

Snapping his eyes open, fear coursed through his veins. His body instantly went from an almost relaxed fetal position lying in his bed to standing upright, his shoulders and arms tense.

_"Bed... where's the bed?"_ He heard a man moan. Feminine gasps uttered out words that he didn't catch.

And with that, all the shit that he had eaten earlier today at school was about to meet the cold wooden floor in front of him. _Get the fuck out. You have to get the fuck out._ He chanted to himself. He was not about to stand there and listen to his mother 'working' for the under cooked meat and raw vegetables they would most likely eat tomorrow.

"Mike, take me! Just fucking drop me and fuck me!"

_No Mike, don't take her. Don't fucking drop her and fuck her. I still have to get the fuck out!_ He looked at the window in his room and briefly wondered if he could be able to escape through that instead of hightailing it out of the living room like a bat out of hell. Then he remembered how David busted it a couple of years ago in a drunken mess.

"You have to be fucking kidding me." He whimpered. The moans and groans coming from the living room intensified and for a second he believed that he really was going to be locked in his room while his mother had sex with another random man.

"You know what, fuck this shit." Finally deciding that the best thing to do in that moment was literally getting the fuck out, he made a mental note in his head to shut his eyes close and pray that he didn't trip or stumble into anything as he ran. He didn't want to spend another minute in the goddamn apartment.

Just as he was about to open the door, however, his mother's wanton voice literally right outside his door froze him. "Open the door Mike, hurry!" Hearing the door to his mother's room finally open, he heard her shriek and yell and the man moaning in response.

The second their door closed, he opened his.

Jon didn't bother looking at the surrounding of the living room; he knew it was probably littered with constant reminds of his mother's profession. She wasn't a legitimate hooker that roamed the streets late at night in search of men she could satisfy in exchange for money, she did have a very low paying job as some paper pusher in the heart of Cincinnati.

Jon couldn't remember the last time she literally went to work,_ to work_. All he could remember was her dressed up like a fake Barbie doll and strutting out of the apartment like she was the richest person alive. He really didn't even know why the hell she even did go; all she did was her dignity and ruin marriages from office quickies.

Meeting the filthy air of the hoodlum area of residence he lived in, the air never seemed cleaner. Pushing the front door wide open, he ran out into the street again and just booked it.

He always found comfort in the streets, despite the obvious dangers that lurked deep within them. On every corner, every alley, there was something to be afraid of. Drug dealers, homeless pedophilic men, and the occasional trio of violent sidewalk hostesses swarmed the areas, yet Jon hardly gave a damn.

Any place that currently wasn't his home was better.

Slowing his pace down, Jon actually wanted to thank the weather now. The multiple hoodies and shirts that he had on kept him minimally warm, but they also bundled him up enough so he could press his chin in and keep his head low and avoid any unnecessary eye contact with the wrong people that might misinterpret a harmless glance.

Keeping his eyes locked on his worn out sneakers, his eyes and mind followed wherever they led him. He didn't know why, but every time that something went wrong in his house, be it a drunk and abusive David, or his high and horny mother, or just the strenuous amount life in general, he always let his feet guide him where his mind could not.

This time, however, they led him to somewhat occupied street alley. Various men and woman were clustered together, holding idle conversations, while a trio of teenagers donned a once simply ugly street wall with the beautiful form of art with the bright colors of their spray paint. At the end of the alleyway, however, two gym sized doors were wide open with the viscous intensity of indoor floodlights pouring out.

For whatever reason, he stopped at the opening of the alleyway and slightly cocked his head to the side, his eyes closing to slits as he tried to grasp if he ever saw this alley before. Agreeing with himself that it just wasn't familiar with him, it didn't stop him from pondering what why the hell the warehouse, as he came to realize that it was, would be open so publicly like this.

He heard yelling and screaming, followed by grunts and shouts, before cheering filled the abandoned warehouse. In the corner of his eye, the gentle breeze of the post rain made a paper that was taped to the brick wall sway. It caught his attention and he turned his head to meet it. Ripping the paper off the wall, his eyes scanned the contents of the paper and sunk everything all in.

_HEARTLAND WRESTLING ASSOCIATION_

_FOUNDED BY THE LEGENDARY **LES THATCHER**_

_SEE THE MONUMENTAL MAIN EVENTS THAT WILL TAKE PLACE_

_FRIDAY, JANUARY 14 2000_

_FREE ADMISSION FOR THIS ONE DAY ONLY_

The floodlights, the screaming and cheering fans, the yells of frustration from the wrestlers, it all connected together. Walking slowly across the alleyway and in toward the open doors, Jon furrowed his brows as he entered the somewhat packed warehouse. Instantly, he was hit with a wave of surprise. The two men in the ring were cut opened and bloodied, yet they were still throwing hard blows to each other's faces. Various objects littered the ring, chairs, broken tables, and even the snapped halves of a sledgehammer.

Jon couldn't help but crack a grin.

The match was incredibly fun to watch, but the reaction the crowd was giving the men was what made him smile. Without thinking, he leaned over to the closest man standing next him and asked, "Is this shit for real?" For a split second, he thought the man was going to turn around and push him the hell away, but he was surprised when he didn't.

Instead, the man turned his head and smiled brightly at Jon. "Nah, this shit is all real. Pure violence at its best." With that, the man turned back around and continued to cheer and shout for his selected fighter.

The answer, though brief, left Jon surprisingly satisfied. Watching as one man grabbed the back of a folded chair; he winced slightly as it made contact with his opponent's back. At the angle Jon was in, he could see that the shot really did knock the man out cold. Without hesitation, he dropped the chair and quickly went for the pin, turning the man over and hoisting his leg up in the air as the referee quickly went for the three count.

Jon glazed over the crowd, watching as people, young and old, gave their respective cheers for the two bloody messes of the wrestlers in the middle of the ring.

He knew right then and there, that having people give this kind of a reaction was what he wanted. He was never sure of anything his entire life, but as he looked on at the man who had just won the match, a glorified expression on his blood washed face as he held a shiny belt high above his head, he couldn't help when the smiled that he was wearing grew to almost split his face.

He knew that he wanted to become a wrestler.

* * *

Because I was so hellbent with wringing this chapter out of me, I didn't get to finish my banners. Oh well. My cross country team can survive till next season.

Because my beloved winter break is over and I have school tomorrow, I probably won't be updating soon, but that's okay. You wanna know why? I already have chapter three written! For now, I ask nothing more than _ten _reviews for chapter three, which is currently in the process of being revised and edited.

Aside from that, I hope you guys enjoyed this chapter!


	3. 2002 (Part 1)

**Disclaimer:** I own nothing. The characters of AJ Lee, Dean Ambrose, and CM Punk are properties of World Wrestling Entertainment. April Mendez, Jonathan Good, and Phillip Brooks own themselves.

**Caution:** **Rated M for a reason.** This chapter will include a heavy amount of language, sexual assault, and attempted rape. Reader discretion is advised.

* * *

_**Union City, New Jersey - 2002**_

"UP!"

The sound of loud groans filled the small weight room, followed by the thundering voice of the instructor.

"DOWN! ONE!"

The sound of the heaviest weights clattering together against soft material filled his ears, followed by a less than masculine moan. Dean furrowed his brows and rubbed his calloused hands together as he waited for the manager and owner of the circuit to approach him.

Though he wasn't an official scout for the World Wrestling Federation, he was a current wrestler and scout for his own territory nonetheless.

Even though of his relation to CYW, he had heard overall good reviews about Coast Youth Wrestling, and after seeing the talent his hopeless partners kept bringing it, he only though it would be logical to seek out talent for himself. So far, he had been roaming the large area that covered today's matches. With around seven rings set up and each already occupied with a current match, Dean could tell that they were expecting him.

"Jesus Lord boy! Look at you!" The familiar voice broke the boy out of his observation. Turning around, he was met with the short stubby man that had raised him for a brief amount of time before he disappeared. Despite being absent eleven years out of his current nineteen, Dean knew there was no doubt that he would always love the man that first raised him. Dean smiled brightly him before outstretching his hand and enveloping him into a brief hug.

"Hey Dad. You look good, the wrestling you have all your boys do rubbed off on you?" Dean joked lightly and his father laughed.

Benjamin "Benny" Diamond was in his mid-forties and well past his physical prime. From what Dean remembered of his early childhood life, he had always seen his father as some sort of God. During his prime, he remembered how his father towered over him at 6' 2", weighed roughly around 234 pounds of pure muscle, and had a physique that could rival that of the late "Ravishing" Rick Rude. His hair was naturally combed to the side, despite its fire red curliness, and his green eyes shined like emeralds.

He remembered his late mother telling him that no woman on this Earth was able to resist him.

Now, it seemed like age and inactivity caught his father by the balls. Dean currently stood at only 5'10", but he was at least half a head taller than Benny now. The growing hunch on Benny's back proved that age really did catch up to him. Instead of having his head full of fiery red hair, only a few strands of light orange remained throughout the sea of grey and white. By Benny's hard breathing and shapeless figure, Dean knew that he at least, at least, gained a good hundred plus pounds. Benny walked with a serious limp and used a metal cane to support his near impossible figure.

It broke Dean's heart.

Benny noticed his expression and sighed sadly. "A lot has changed since the last time I saw you Dean. I'm not Benny the Bull anymore, or the man that anybody wants representing their company, hell, I'm not even the man you remember fathering you, but what I can tell you I look like a straight up cow..." Dean frowned at the language his father was using and placed a warm hand on his hunched shoulders.

"Dad, forget all that useless shit, seriously," Despite the situation, and the strong urge to continue the conversation and convince his father how much of an amazing man he still was in his eyes, Dean focused on the reason why he was visiting him. "You want to know why I'm really here?"

The physically aged man smiled. "Well, you're here to take one of this cow's calves."

Though Dean knew he should be upset with Benny, he couldn't help but crack a smile. "No, I'm here to take one of your absolute best wrestlers and give him the opportunity of a life time and train him to absolute perfection to become the World Wrestling Federation's next face."

Hearing this, Benny smiled so brightly that Dean's own faltered. "Well, I know just the one that will capture your entire attention. And I don't mean to brag, but I think I raised this one to the absolute best of my ability. My failure with you brought me success with this one." And with that, Benny led his nineteen year old son through a rather simple maze of hallways before they entered a very large clearing.

Unlike where he previously was, where unofficial members of Benny's team wrestled, ten professional grade wrestling rings were set up in a heavily padded room. All the wrestlers where clad with amateur singlet's and protective headgear, but their moves were all professional.

The extreme range of the body masses in the area completely surprised Dean. Usually, when he went to high schools or independent circuits to watch the students wrestle, their body figure was all the same: broad shoulders with slightly sagging pectoral muscles, a protruding abdomen, and firm biceps secretly covered in a thin layer of fat.

But here, there was such a wide variety that he had to take a moment of inspection to really understand that his father didn't accept the normal. There was everything from ripped teenagers that didn't hesitate to show off their incredible bodies to the abnormal grape figured boys that lumbered around the ring and overpowered their opponent with their extreme size.

There was no 'in-between'. You were either ripped or you were big.

One, almost instantly, caught Dean's eye. He was tall, maybe around 6'2", and had strong muscles riddled over his body. His hair was an ashy blond that appeared grey in the bad lighting of the room. He was quick, Dean noticed, as he practically flew across the room to whiplash his opponent. Dean kept his eyes locked on him as he watched the white boy climb up the ring post. He smirked a little as the boy raised his long arms high above his head and yelled something out before jumping and sending his elbow straight into the chest of his downed opponent.

"See someone you like? I can arrange a match right here right now if you want," Benny's voice was filled with nervousness, but Dean only smiled at him.

"Hey dad? Who's the white boy? Tall, ash hair?"

Seeing Benny's smile almost made Dean think that he was going to split his face in half. "You want Kyle Brody? I'll give you Kyle Brody!" Upon hearing the name of the boy that had previously caught his attention, Dean only shook his head politely.

"He's one hell of a performer, I'll give you that. Let me look around though Ben, let me see what other hidden treasures you have in this abandon warehouse." Dean said jokingly, but he could see the disappointment in Benny's eyes of his rejection to see Kyle Brody more up and personal.

Feeling a shiver run down his spine, Dean didn't realize he was walking around the gym until he saw Benny almost waddle to catch up to him. He scanned the dozens of boys that were sweating their way to capture the attention of a Scout, but yet, even if he wanted too, he just couldn't find it in himself to consider the ashy haired white boy again.

Scanning around the room, though, made him cock his head to the side. Wherever he looked, there were absolutely no girls. Sure, females' entering the male dominated sport was difficult, but there were a handful of beautiful women that overpowered men. Chyna, Trish Stratus, and Lita where only some to name a few.

No, now, he was determined. Ignoring Benny's fevered questions, Dean walked through the maze of wrestling rings, dodging and avoiding any and all eye contact that ring side managers and wrestlers were giving him. Hearing the familiar clatter of weights being dropped, followed by the less than masculine cry, caught Dean's attention.

Turning around, he saw a wide opening that led out of the arena. He looked at Benny hesitantly when he heard a strangled groan and the lifting of weights, before he heard the exhale of the voice, followed by the massive drop in weights again. Pointing to the dim room, Dean raised a brow. "What's in there Benjamin?"

Even though his son was a full grown adult now, he still didn't like the boy using or calling him by his full name. Furrowing his brows, he replied nonchalantly. "That's our weight room Dean. Why?"

Still staring at him, Dean dropped his finger and looked on. Walking hesitantly toward the opening, he blew out a sigh and leaned against the door frame. "Dad, come here yeah?"

The man was at his side in an instant.

"Who's that?"

Turning his head to meet the person that managed to catch Dean's eye, Benny furrowed his brows in confusion and balked. "Uh... her name is April Lee, I think. To be honest, I don't know what her real name is. I call her AJ, they," he pointed his thumb past his back, mentioning all his other wrestlers "call her that too. Along with other names. Why?"

Dean focused at the petite five foot girl dead lifting 150 pounds down below them. Surrounded by all kinds of exercising equipment, she was currently doing massive amounts of weightlifting, but judging by the appearance of her clothing, she had been here for quite some time. Her light grey long sleeve was absolutely drenched in sweat, the dark grey V dripping down from her neck to her chest, and from her neck to her back made his eyes grow wide. "Has she been a member of your group for a while?"

Dean kept his eyes locked on the teenage girl as she raised the 150 pound bar again, straining and yelling out to encourage herself to lift the bar. "She was actually my first female trainee. She's been around since 1998."

This answer seemed to anger Dean though. "Then why isn't she out there with those boys wrestling? From what I see there, from the sweat, from the look on her face, hell, from the extrusion I see her putting herself through, I can tell that she could be one hell of a wrestler. Why aren't you jumping on the fact that she could be one of your best wrestlers?"

Benny was taken back. He didn't respond instantly though, he only moved to stare at the girl as she dropped the barbell before jogging one entire lap around the large gym. Afterwards, she headed straight for the treadmill and raised the incline and increased the speed. "The other boys don't like her Dean. You don't get that. Why? I don't know, but I can see that almost all the guys here do not like her. Sure, I can tell that she could probably be one of the best wrestlers here, but what the hell do you want me to do Dean? Do you want me to lose twenty four of my best boys over one girl that could or could not wrestle?"

Pushing himself off the door frame, Dean turned around and walked away from the room, rolling his eyes away from his father. "Dad, do me a favor yeah? I'm actually thinking on how good your boy Brody is. Call him out and bring him here."

Despite the conversation, Benny was suddenly that happy-go-lucky man that he was no less than ten minutes ago. "Yeah! I'll go get him right now!" and without another word ran off to go fetch him.

Dean couldn't help but to roll his eyes as he made his way back to the gym room, where the girl had raised the incline to the absolute maximum and the speed to the top. She was unloading on the treadmill, sprinting as fast as she absolutely could. Dean was blown away. For the next two minutes, that's how they were. Her sprinting that insane incline and him staring at her like a pedophile freak.

He didn't realize that he was walking in her direction until she jumped on the sides of the treadmill and lowered the speed. She followed her sprints with a fast walking Dean was sure to be running. She turned to look at him with furrowed brows. "I'm sorry, I don't mean to be rude, but I saw you and Mr. Diamond up in the loft a good ten minutes ago. Now you're here. Can I ask you what you want?" The effortless way she spoke, without gasping for air or pausing to level her breathing, made him stare at her wide eyed.

Dean was taken aback by her choice of words and had the giant urge to say something back, but the second he saw her expression, he kept his mouth closed.

Her hand shot out to the control panel of the treadmill and frantically pressed the button to lower the speed down, but due to her excitement, it wasn't working. Her hand then sought out the power cable in front of the treadmill and pull the power cable out, shutting the machine down. Hopping off, she brushed her sweaty bangs out of her face and took off her glasses to clean her sweat covered nose before placing them back on. She blinked a couple times before her jaw dropped.

Dean swore that she was getting lightheaded.

"Y-y-your... Diamond's kid..." She managed to stutter out.

So everybody did know who he was. Feeling flattered, he only smirked. "Yeah, I'm Dean Diamond, and I'm the owner of one the World Wrestling Federation's developmental territories. Would you be interesting in being the next face of the company?"

And with that, Dean effectively proved that he could make almost any girl pass out, judging by the downed girl who was staring up at him like he was her savior to get her out of a shit hole. Which he probably was, but damn it, seeing amazing talent not being able to wrestle due to some 'handicap' pissed him off more than anything.

Sure, he'd seen worse. Like Jeremy Chi, who wrestled his way to fame with an artificial left foot, or Sammuel Baker, who continuously wrestled four matches with a broken jaw. It sadden him to realize that this girl's only handicap was something she was born with and would never be able to get fixed; her gender. He thought that today's generations had gotten over sexism in professional wrestling, the immense success that Chyna had proved this to him, but remembering everything that Benny had told him, he guessed not.

He knelt down and offered her his hand, an apologetic looked graced his face. "I'm sorry, I didn't mean to surprise you, really," she carefully grabbed his hand and he gently hoisted her up. "I don't want to sound like a mad creeper, but you're really good."

She only gave Dean a snort. "Good? Good at what, Mr. Diamond? Working out? That's just because it's all I do here. It's all I can really do." The hurt in her voice was evident, but he didn't want to say anything. Instead, he just pursed his lips.

"Again, I don't want to sound like a pedo, but I want to see you work a match. You've worked matches before right?"

She only gave him a look before shrugging her shoulders. "I know basic techniques. I'm not allowed to wrestle with the boys, remember? I'm pretty sure Mr. Diamond told you that already."

He furrowed his brows. "Actually, he didn't," he lied. Of course his father told him that she wasn't allowed to wrestle the boys, but he wanted to hear from her why she couldn't. And how she felt about it. "Why aren't you allowed to wrestle the boys?"

She looked at Dean before scoffing. "I'm a female Mr. Diamond! I have a female reproductive system and that apparently is a _major_ disadvantage in becoming what your life goal is."

Dean rolled his eyes at her. Her tone was sarcastic, but it was quirky. He didn't stop himself from cracking a grin. "Your finisher and signature?"

Her leaned on the treadmill and raised a brow. "Sleeperhold and a diving crossbody. Why?"

A smirk fell upon his lips and his eyes twinkled. "Well, 'cause you're going to have your first match in less than a month."

Before she could say anything, much less react, a booming voice filled the gym. "Dean! I have him right here! The best in this entire circuit, I can assure you!" Turning around, he saw a grinning Benny with his arm thrown around the wide shoulders of Kyle Brody. The boy was sweating, the first few strands of his hair matting and bundling up to a darker shade of blonde. He looked at Dean with a lopsided grin and his blue eyes shined, but the second Brody's eyes landed on the petite figure behind him, his once friendly glance turned absolutely deadly.

And for some reason, Dean took a protective step in front of the girl to shield her from his murderous stare.

"Kyle Brody, pleasure, I'm Dean Diamond, owner of The Diamond's Den, a discreet developmental territory for the World Wrestling Federation, but I'm pretty sure Benny here told you everything." Ripping his icy blue eyes from the girl, Brody forced himself to look Dean in the eye and smile. Without missing a beat, Brody extended his hand. Dean took it instantly.

Feeling the firm grip the boy had, Dean sized him up. "See, I've been watching some of your matches, only a few, but I can tell that you're already full of promise. I was wondering of you could possibly work a match some time in the near future?"

Dean knew the boy would agree instantly, and because of that, he prepared himself with the next situation. Watching Brody's familiar face splitting smile return, Dean almost wanted to smile with the man. "Yeah! Of course! Anything you want! I'll go get Victor and we'll spar in the main room if yo-" he was cut off with a wave of Dean's hand.

"No, actually. Your sparring partner will be Miss Lee," he removed himself from his place in front of her and motioned to her. "And the match will take place on May 24, roughly about a month from now." Again, he saw the anger and pure hatred in his eyes, but this time, he saw Brody take a dangerous step toward her. Snarling, he almost spat in her direction.

But because of the constant nudging and whispered warnings Benny was giving Brody, he didn't say anything. Looking directly at AJ for close to a minute without as much as saying a word, Brody was the one to finally speak. "You know what Mr. Diamond? Yeah, I'll wrestle Miss Lee here," he looked up at Dean and gave him a plastic smile. "Can't wait!"

Giving his father a sharp glare, Benny nodded and grabbed Brody by the elbow and tugged him along. After they made their way out of the weight room, Dean turned to smile at AJ, but she furrowed her brows and looked at him.

Her fierce look made him pause.

"Why did you do that?" She questioned.

He cocked his head to the side. "Do what?"

"Why did you arrange a match for Brody and me?"

At that, he grinned at her. Leaning down to pick up her unnaturally calloused hand, his face was bright with emotion. "Oh, I'm going to have so much fun training you."

And while his words might of put her slightly on edge, his radiant smile was infectious and she couldn't help but to smile right back at him.

_Yeah,_ she thought,_ I can't wait to officially training either._

* * *

During the month long training she had endured with Dean, she couldn't of thanked God any more than she already had.

Not only had she learned a plethora amount of new techniques that she didn't even know existed, but she physically saw herself become better every single day. Dean had told her countless times that because of her hungry need to learn, she had become the Diamond's Den's best student.

She also wanted to thank God close to a thousand times for making Dean cross paths with her. The young nineteen year old had the ambition, the patience, and the determination of a fifty nine year old. Just nineteen and he already owned his own grade-A gym, filled with top quality wrestling rings and state-of-the-art training equipment that it could give the World Wrestling Federation a run for its money.

The determination he had self-drilled into his mindset paired effortlessly with her own. They both wouldn't stop until she mastered the elbow drop or perfected a new submission maneuver.

The patience he had, though, was what made her consider herself lucky for having him as a trainer. Never had she seen any man, much less a still considered teenager, with as much patience as Dean had. Usually, from what she observed, men where brash and ill-tempered, but Dean was nothing like that. Like a parent teaching their child, Dean would stand there, every single day, and help her out. And not once did he raise his voice at her.

_"Move your arm lower, it's too high up on the neck. You'll break something."_

_"Keep your footing firm; the ropes of the turnbuckle are unpredictable."_

_"Now angle your elbow slightly to the right, beautiful, perfect, just like that. Now jump."_

In one month, four weeks, thirty days, Dean Diamond managed to squeeze into her heart and make it swell with the wanted friendship she always wanted from another wrestler. Never had she attached herself so quickly to someone, but there was an aura of calmness that came with Dean, that it made it almost impossible to see him as _just_ a trainer and a best friend.

So when the day of her infamous match with Kyle Brody finally arrived, his words always clouded her mind and calmed her racing heart.

If Dean believed she could do it, than she believed she could.

* * *

She couldn't help but smile proudly, despite her bruises and cuts, as she made her way quietly into the empty locker room.

It wasn't a feat that anyone could have even wished to fathom. Nobody wrestling for this rundown, back watered piece of shit would have even briefly thought that she, April Mendez, Miss April, would have laced up a pair of boots and actually _stepped_ into the ring.

But now, stepping in the ring for the first time, with Kyle Brody as her first opponent, she defeated the boy in the cleanest matter anybody could have done. Her two pins in less than thirty minutes completely overpowered Brody; and there was no way in hell that he would of ever had a chance to attempt, continue, or even regain his stance as dominant competitor.

Dusting off her plush sweater, she placed it neatly in her duffle. She felt giddy today and there was no doubt that having your first and only victory over the best independent wrestler in CYW was the reason why.

Despite that, she found it in herself to bring more reasons in her only one.

One, she was going to train with Dean tomorrow early in the morning. Not only had he agreed that he was going to help her out dramatically by decreasing her mile time by three minutes, but she agreed to three hours of pure strength workouts, plus the incorporation of both amateur and professional wrestling. Unlike other people who treasured their sleep and wanted to be nothing more than lazy, she absolutely loved it when she pushed her own limits and set new personal records for herself.

And two, ever since Dean decided to personally train her, he had constantly bugged her to leave CYW for the Diamond's Den, the training facility that he and his coworkers owned. Honestly, she couldn't be more than happy to accept the offer. The six years she had been at CYW had been hell. The owner was an unhelpful asshole that just so happened to be his father, the other members of the training center treated her like absolute shit, and she had wasted around six years of her life on basically a gym membership.

To be honest, the absolute best part of leaving CYW was the fact that she no longer had to deal and face with Kyle Brody. At first, when she met the boy for the very first time, he was nice to her, but that was for a total of two minutes. After that, he became extremely distant and later a rude ass, before his persona truly exploded and he became a violent jerk.

She continued about cleaning her locker and placing all her things in her duffle. Being too preoccupied with cleaning, she didn't notice the tall figure approaching her until the bottle of sunscreen was knocked out of her hand. Gasping, she looked up to the eyes of Kyle Brody, red rimmed and puffy, no doubt from crying.

Instantly, she froze. Even though he was looking at her with furious curiosity, she couldn't help it when her heart started to beat faster. She took a hesitant step back, only for the cold orange lockers to block her somewhat subtle escape from him.

His labored breathing indicated that he was upset, but his furrowed brows clarified that he was beyond pissed. Knocking her duffle from the table to the floor, he was suddenly in front of her, his large hands gripping her bare shoulder tightly. He shoved her into the lockers and pinned her.

"What the fuck do you have?!" He yelled at her, his grip on her small shoulders tightening. She bit her tongue to keep the whimper she almost released in. He lowered his head so his steely blue grey eyes were at her eye level. "You're just a stupid bitch. You don't deserve that shot at the WWF that fucking Diamond's kid wants to give you. How the fuck did you get it, huh?" He questioned, the grip on her shoulders becoming almost impossible to bear with now.

"What? Did you take Diamond's baby for a little ride on the 'April Express'? Did you suck the man off so he could even consider seeing you?" He yelled at her, releasing his right hand to send a thundering punch to the locker that was mere inches from her face.

She turned her head the opposite direction and winced, the tears already building in her eyes. "Why the fuck did he pick you and not me!"

From the moment she stepped foot in CYW, every male staff member mistreated her. They harassed her, they called her names, and some even made the attempt to beat and touch her, but in the end, they never did. Despite the threats, they couldn't have hurt her more physically than they did mentally. She sat on the bench, every single fucking day, and waited for Benny to even consider her for a match. He disregarded her with a sympathetic look that crushed her self-esteem more than of the horrid names everyone called her.

So now that she was the first CYW alumni to graduate from the shit circuit to the actual developmental territory WWF, she was not going to stand there and let Kyle Brody, of all people, call her names anymore.

Sadly, she knew she currently had nothing on the two hundred pound boy, and she knew that for the first time, she would leave with intentional cuts and bruises, possibly more, but she'd be damned if she didn't stand up for herself anymore. The match in the ring was brutal, but she came out victorious because Dean acted as the most attentive manager she had ever seen.

But Dean wasn't here right now. With a single crystal tear escaping her eye and sliding over her cheek, she turned to look at Brody's deadly glare.

_I'm sorry, so, so, sorry._

"Maybe because I deserved it more that you, you stupid ignorant piece of shit!" She roared at him, the adrenaline running through her veins gave her enough bravery to push the towering boy away from her, releasing his iron grip on her and making him stumble a few feet behind her.

She wasn't finished though, she had a lot more than that. With tears streaming down her face, she completely unloaded her six years of pain and suffrage on Brody. Just like what he had done to her. "I've sat here, for six fucking years, hoping, just maybe fucking hoping, that Benny might actually use me and allow me to fucking learn. I worked my ass off to even be here, I don't know about you Brody, but working fucking school nights illegally at a diner to make enough money to even consider becoming a pro wrestler is something that I had to fucking struggle to be here!"

"Six years! Six fucking thousand dollars! And for what? To just sit here, work out, and be treated like fucking shit because I'm a goddamn fucking girl?!" She hated the way she sounded when she was crying, but by the completely shocked look on Brody's face, she was getting her message through.

That's all she ever wanted.

"You can't even fathom how much I saw you, your friends, hell, even the fucking janitor, wrestle and enjoy themselves. They were learning and getting everything that I paid to learn for fucking free. So when Benny just left me there, knowing that I would fucking kill to have a chance to prove my worth, but acting as if I was a major road block on his trip to nowhere, I started training on my own," feeling more confident with all her words out, she marched over to him and shoved her finger in his chest, "that's why Benny's kid decided to train me and not your ass!"

"If I can beat you in a three falls match without anybody, I sure as hell can compete in the WWF without you! And you know what? A scout saw that! Sure Dean convinced Benny to let me wrestle that _one_ match, but it was fucking Dean Diamond that decided to train me! If training solo is what it takes to get recognized by the WWF, then I don't know what the FUCK you are doing Brody!" She spurred, completely fuming at Brody while absorbing all her wrath and all the anger she had bottle up for the past six years.

And so, wanting to spend no more time near the boy that absolutely ruined her training experience, she brushed passed him, grabbing her fallen duffle and its spilled containers. Too preoccupied with the realization that she just told Brody off, she didn't see him move from his position in front of the lockers, but instead, her ears pricked when she heard the only door in the dingy locker room shut close.

Snapping her head up, she saw Brody face her, his back pressed firmly to the door, blocking off her exit. His face was clouded with emotion, his brows furrowed with anger, and his lips pressed in a fine line. His eyes were focused solely on the concrete floor under him, and he refused to make eye contact. By the way his body was tensed up and locked; she recognized it as his fighting stance.

And all the confidence she had gathered from her confession and mental release all but disappeared when he slowly lifted his gaze to look at her.

His blue gray eyes were replaced with pure oxide and it made a terrible shiver run down her spine. "Who in the absolute FUCK do you think you are?" He seethed, approaching her slowly. Again, just like before, she took a hesitant step back, and just like last time, she was met with a wall of lockers.

"You really think I give a shit on how you managed to stay here? Do you really think it would have mattered if you suddenly stopped coming here? Do you think anyone would have cared?" He snorted as he gave her a humored look, as if she told him one of the funniest jokes ever. "Hell, do you think I would have cared?"

She was deathly pale and her heart throbbed. The man was twenty years old. He stood at 6' 2" and outweighed her by a hundred and twenty pounds. She had nowhere to run, nowhere to go, and it was that one fact,_ that one fact_, that terrified her.

Brody could do whatever he wanted to her and nobody would give a damn.

Stalking, he approached her like a lion would a gazelle. Her back was pressed flush against the lockers and the feeling of the freezing metal against her already icy cold skin didn't help anything.

"I wouldn't of care if you disappeared off the face of the Earth tomorrow AJ," Suddenly in front of her, he reached behind the nape of her neck with one free hand and with the other placed it on the swell of her ass and pressed him against his hard body. Lowering his head, he brought his tongue out to lightly skin the flesh with the pink muscle.

She began to sob quietly as he uttered the words she never in her life wished to hear, "so I might as well have my way with you right now."

Roughly grabbing her ass, he pinned her body to the lockers and attacked her neck, placing sloppy kisses over her chest and up her exposed shoulder. She struggled fiercely against him, the sobs she wanted to let out stuck in her throat, but she couldn't move. Just like she couldn't speak.

Grinding into her, she felt her body react against his hardening erection, which was rubbing on her stomach. She felt her whole body being taken from her. Her purity, her innocence, her dignity, everything.

"No, Brody, stop," it was a pathetic whimper of hope that even she would of ignored, but when he stopped his current assault, the small spark she ignited slowly grew with hope.

However, he only stopped to chuckle at her. "Ever been with a real man AJ?" When she refused to look, let alone answer him, he answered for her. Grabbing her by the waist, he roughly turned her around and threw her across the small plastic table, her entire upper body pressed flatly against the rigid plastic.

She didn't even have time to react to the situation nor the incredibly vulnerable position she was currently in, but that didn't stop her from trying to get away from Brody. Feeling a hand bury itself in her hair, her face was pressed into the table while Brody grabbed her hips and pulled her until she was flush against his hardened hips.

Lowering himself so his back was pressed against hers and his lips a half an inch away, he spoke in her ear. "I'll take everything from you right now," more tears spilled over her cheeks as he felt his hand grope her ass again before fingering the loops of her white shorts. "Just like you took my pride and decency away."

She turned her head and whimpered as Brody continued to undress and prep her for the forced taking of her innocence. Her eyes were tired of crying; her throat was dry and cracked from having her screams muffled so much; and her whole body shut down and attempted to protect itself against the unwanted violator.

Her red rimmed eyes found the wall clock that lonely hung in the small room and she decided that she would rather focus on the way that the blue rim that encased the clock was fading, rather than the feeling of her shorts and panties pooling around her ankles, exposing her flesh to the freezing air.

_10:43_

She didn't stop the terrified whimper escape her lips as Brody trailed his disgusting hand from her calves to her ass again. His hands were all over her and it made her skin crawl at the feeling.

_10:44_

She heard the unzipping of his pants and belt buckle and she literally just gave up in that moment. She was pathetic. She had spent six years of her life battling hurtful comment after hurtful comment, yet the second anything got physical, she couldn't find the nerve to protect physical body. After all these years, she only spent it protecting her mind.

_10:45_

"I'll make you feel better than anybody ever will April," she couldn't help but absolutely hate the way her name rolled off his lips. Pressing her against him again, he bent down and bit her shoulder, while she prepared herself to loose everything.

Yet the moment never came.

"Hey AJ, I was wondering if you-" Dean Diamond's voice never sound more beautiful than it did right that minute. Feeling Brody's grip on her neck loosen, she whipped her head around to see a wide eyed and absolutely _furious_ Dean.

"_Dean!_" Her cry brought him out of his shocked stupor and placed in directly into action.

In a heartbeat, he charged at Brody. Spearing the man into the brick wall, it removed the terribly unwanted pressure on AJ's lower and upper back. Scrambling to the floor, she grabbed her forgotten cross country sweater and covered her lower body as she as watched Dean grabbed Brody by the shirt and slammed his fists into his face unmercifully.

Even though he physically took nothing from her, he mentally robbed her of everything. The room never felt colder that it did at that moment; her huddling in a corner, Dean giving Brody one stunning punch after another, and Brody, who, for all intents and purposes, lay on the concrete floor barely being able to breath.

At that moment, she couldn't help but consider her life decision. Wrestling was her everything; she worked her ass off day and night to get noticed. She had idols that she wanted to be like and the minute she actually let herself believe that she had made a small step in the right direction, the ugly demons she was trying so hard to fight won.

If this was what wrestling was like, then she would force herself to accept the fact that maybe the decision of becoming a professional wrestler wasn't for her.

If attempted rape from a teammate came with it, then nobody should ever consider becoming a professional wrestler.

Due to the fact that she had zoned out, she didn't see Dean approach her. He couldn't blame her for violently reacting to his soft touch and he felt his heart grow heavy at seeing her snap back to reality.

She recognized the neatly combed hair that she quickly associated with Dean and all but launched herself into his arms. Not caring that her lower half was completely naked and exposed because she trusted Dean. Burying her small head into the crook of his neck, she allowed her pent up sobs to finally be released when he crushed her into his chest. Stroking her hair, he began rocking her back and forth.

_I'm going to fucking murder him. Rip him a new one he can't sew back together. I'll make sure his fucking career is done and finished. He will never wrestle again._

"Shh April, shh," he cooed, grabbing a nearby towel and wrapped it around her waist, covering her up as she continued to sob. "It's okay, I'm here, I'm here. As soon as I get you home safely, I'm personally ending your contract with CYW and you're moving in with me." This side of himself was completely new to him and he was almost baffled by his own words, but there was no doubt that his usual calmness and his newly discovered generosity had one thing in common.

And that was to protect April.

She just went through a trauma that was so closely associated with what she considered her life that most people wouldn't get over it. But he would be there to guide her through everything little step.

No matter how long it took.

* * *

_**Cincinnati, Ohio - 2002**_

_God fucking dammit mom!_ Putting a plastic smile on his face, Jon welcomed the properly dressed man in. Disregarding Jon, the man briskly walking and looked around the dirty apartment, no doubt judging the place Jon called home by the way he wrinkled his pale nose.

_Hi to you too motherfucker._ "Can I help you?" Jon found it almost comical how the man snapped his head back to look at him with a questioning glare, but he wasn't going to be nice to men that simply visited to fuck his mother. Out of the hundreds of men his mother slept with every year, one man became a regular. After becoming her labeled 'boyfriend', he turned into an abusive, drug addicted, leeching, freeloading sack of shit.

In a surprisingly deep voice, the man spoke: "Does David Mongabay reside here?"

_The fuck?_ Jon lowered his eyes to slits as he closed the door. Locking eye contact with the man, Jon slowly moved his way to the couch, sitting while he resumed glaring at him. To Jon, he gave off an uncomfortable aura the second he stepped foot in the apartment and it only seemed to get worse when he started questioning his mother's boyfriend.

Jon scoffed at the question, letting his eyes wander to the glum looking sky outside the window as he answer. "Piece of shit eats and sleeps here when he has no other place to go, walks around the fucking place as if he's God. So I mean I guess."

From the corner of his eye, Jon could see the man's jaw drop slightly, no doubt shocked from his careless use of foul language, but he didn't care. The man asked a question and Jon gave him a true answer.

The man regained his composure and once again regarded Jon. "I'm going to assume that you're his son and I-"

Jon cut the man off with a violently sharp movement of his arm and the shaking of his head. "Okay, let's calm down there man. You asked if the sack of shit lives here and I told you that he does," he stood up to walk in front of the man, his brows furrowed. "Not that I'm his damned offspring!" The man looked genuinely afraid now and took a hesitant step back. Jon rolled his eyes and sighed loudly, stepping away from him and returned to his position on the couch.

At this point, the use of Jon's abrasive language and the seventeen year old's intimidating attitude, the man grabbed all the formality he entered the small apartment with and all but threw it out the window.

Reaching up to loosen his pressed tie, the man let out a breath. "Look kid, I'm not here to ruin your life or be your best friend," the two glared at each other as the man reached into his jacket to reveal a white envelope, "I'm here to let your parents know that your five months of not paying rent is done."

Throwing the white paper container on the table swiftly, the seemingly paper thin envelope lightly glided on the table as it made contact, but to Jon's ears, it was like dropping a bowling ball on a glass table.

Without an emotion, not wanting to show the man the scared shitless boy that was internally panicking at receiving the news, he scoffed. "Thanks man," Jon rolled his eyes at the paper and looked expectantly at the man. Flicking his wrist toward the door, Jon furrowed his brows at the confused man. "You can leave now. I'll give the paper to my mom, don't worry."

"Son, you don't understand, you have-"

"I said the door is there," his voice rose a few octaves, cutting the man off and effectively silencing him. Jon didn't even bat an eye for raising his voice. "I don't need to hear this shit. I'd probably get an earful when I get home, so I don't need to hear how I'm going to be living on the streets for another four months." Standing up, he walked off toward the door; griping the handle in his hand and holding it wide open for the man.

Jon hoped that he didn't notice his terribly shaking hand.

Despite the hostility that practically radiated off of Jonathan, the man couldn't help but to stare at him sympathetically. Without another word, the man slowly walked toward the opened and waiting door, but not before pausing at the threshold. Turning around to tower over the boy, the man cautiously raised a hand and placed it softly on Jon's tense shoulder.

Jon bit on his lip as the unwashed tears in his eyes threatened to spill over. "You might want to leave now," Jon never felt more like a pussy than he did now. The horribly crack in his voice made a single tear slide down his now red cheek.

The man opened his mouth to say something, but after looking at the desperate look on Jon's face, he closed his mouth and nodded.

Watching as the man walked out of the door, he didn't hesitate to slam the door the second his other foot stepped out.

_"Jooonnn,"_

Because David controlled every single cent that Jon ever made and sucked all the money his mother made whoring herself away, David was usually the giant factor that determined whether or not they would be eating the next day, having new shoes, or being able to stay in the far from decent apartment.

His red rimmed grey blue eyes landed on the letter.

"You're just a piece of paper," he called, furrowing his brows and curling his hands into tight fists. "Why the hell do you determine whenever or not I live here?" Unknowingly, more tears trailed down his face and splattered on his grey shirt, creating tiny circles of almost black.

He was going to hear more from David. He hardly ever spoke to his mother, as she let her abusive flame do the talking for her, and that's what scared him the most.

David didn't talk. David used action and brutal force to get his words through.

At 5' 9", David wasn't the tallest person in the world. Already, at the age of seventeen, Jon was at least an inch taller than the obese man. Because of Jon's hardly considered training he did with Hawk, he had muscle already bulging and straining against his skin. David though, David had fat. Bags of the deadly substance hanged under his arms, and jiggled when he grew angry. The sagging skin under his face only grew to a bulge when he tucked his chin in and Jon found it pretty disgusting. The always greasy looking facial hair around his mouth constantly made him want to gag.

The fatness and his immense size because of it allowed David to obviously overpower Jon. His meaty fists never failed to cause nose curling damage to his face, and he had to resort to childish excuses whenever he went to school to cover up for the son of a bitch.

_'It was this bitch on 4th street. Tried to pull a knife on me for my fucking watch.'_ The horrendously red scar that trailed down almost half the length of his side was after allegedly angering David when Jon attempted to sneak back into the house past one in the morning. In reality, David was angry and frustrated that his mother hadn't returned. Seeing as the cheap, but sharp, knife set in the kitchen was out, he just so happened to decide,_ "... why the hell not."_

_'Yesterday after school, when I was playing basketball, some guy was messing with my court. He clocked me, but I got the faggot back.'_ It was a broken whiskey bottle that made his right eye bleed out and leave his upper cheek reddened and bandaged for at least a month. David's drunken antics were always violent when Jon refused, or even hesitated, to do anything he demanded for. In this case, grabbing the full bottle, breaking it in half, angrily aiming and throwing at the teen for not grabbing the remote control that was literally right in front of him seemed more reasonable.

_'I was messin' with my friends during the weekend. Whoever fell down lost. I obviously won.'_ The black eye and swollen nose that was inflicted by his face being thrown in to the brick wall left Jon absent from school for two days. All for yelling back at David for angrily rejecting his offer to sniff a line. His defense to his less than caring mother was that he was being generous and offering, plus that_ "... something this pure wasn't cheap."_

David beat and abused him for the smallest things, so when he received new that they were about to lose the apartment, and everything in it, Jon couldn't help but to think of all the bad things that would end up happening to him just because he was the one that happened to be home when he notice came.

"Fuck this," he muttered, pacing in the small room, his hands burying themselves in his dirty blond hair. "Fuck this, fuck this, fuck this, _fuck this shit!_" kicking an innocent laundry basket out of the way, he growled in anger. "This shit is _sooo_ not fucking happening!" Fresh tears again matted in his eyes and he curled his nose to try to keep them from flowing.

"It's just a fucking dream," he tried to reason with himself and make himself believe that he, his mother and her leech were about to be evicted from the only stably unstable home he had known for a while. "David will probably wake you up with another punch, just another punch, soon. He'll do it soon." If waking up from this seemingly unwanted dream meant that David had to beat him, then he'd welcome David's hits.

His head with throbbing with single most disastrous event that he had remembered; even when David moved in with him and his mother didn't compare to this.

Unknowingly, his pacing led him to his room, where his bed, though unmade and messy, seemed like the most beautiful thing in the world to him right now. One by one, he kicked his shoes off, peeled his sweater off his body, and clad in a white tee and grey sweatpants, crawled into bed.

The second his head hit the pillow, he was out cold.

* * *

_The room was pitch black._

_Seeing absolutely nothing, Jon brought his hands up and rubbed his eyes in an attempt to regain his ability to see. A small voice behind him, however, made his ears prick in interest._

_"You're always gonna be with us, right daddy?"_

_Turning around, Jon was smacked with a bright light and he winced. After a minute or two, the brightness of the light dimmed down to a bearable tone. Revealing to him a father and a small child on the curb of an ice cream parlor, smiling happily at each other, matching ice creams in hand._

_The heavy heart Jon carried seemed to gain at least ten more pounds as the father laughed brightly at his son. Their conversation was suddenly become inaudible and he longed to hear a perfectly normal, stable, father-son relationship._

_He had nothing like that to compare his male influences to._

_Looking at the father though, Jon squinted his eyes as he tried to focus more on the man. Walking toward him, Jon could have sworn that he looked familiar. The man had similar dirty blond hair like he did, and even with the happiness and love the man had toward his child aged son, Jon could see himself in those pools of blue grey._

_"Always Mox. I'll always be here."_

_Mox._

_Short for Moxley._

_Instantly, Jon was finally able to place a name on the man. He had been in his life for the first few years, before he suddenly disappeared one day and never returned._

_"Dad?"_

_But just like Jon wasn't able to hear their conversation, when the man didn't react or even look like someone had called him, he was almost sure that not only could the man he was almost sure to be his father couldn't hear or see him._

_Suddenly, a gorgeous woman came out of the parlor, a rainbow ice cream in her hand as she made her way over to the man and the child, a stunning smile on her face. The man turned from his son and smiled longingly at the woman. She bent down to place the man a kiss on his clean shaven cheek before turning to the child._

_The brightness changed once again, but this time, it appeared more heavenly. Everything looked crystal clear and sharp in detail. The colors of even the simplest things stood out and were rich in their hues and tints._

_The scene before him was played out peacefully._

_The way the child reacted happily and climbed into her lap after she sat next to the man told Jon that she that was his mother. The way the man leaned over to kiss the child's head affirmed the fact that the child was indeed his son. Afterwards, the woman leaned her head on the man shoulders and sighed happily._

_Wrapping their hands together around their child, their impossibly shiny wedding bands proved to the world that they were a happily married couple with a handsome three year old son._

_It was the family he had always wished he had._

_"Jon..." He heard his name being called and he snapped his head to the direction of the voice. He noticed that the man did the exact same thing at the exact same time._

_The woman continued to talk to the man, but no sound came out of her mouth. Her words were inaudible, but her mouth was clearly moving. By the way the man was smiling and nodding, it let him know that their conversation was once again muted. Something the woman said caught the man's attention and his whole demeanor pricked up._

"Jon..."

_The man's face lit up at her words and he had such a smile on his face that it made Jon cock his head and leave him to try and figure out what emotion that he was aware of could possibly leave a man with that kind of smile._

"Jonthan."

_The man held up his forgotten ice cream and pressed the tip of it to his wife's lips. Mouthing some incoherent words to her, her whole body began to tremble with laughter as the man playfully attacked her lips. Their child sat in between his parents and continued to make a mess of his bubblegum ice cream._

"Jonathan!"

* * *

A blood curdling scream made Jon snap his eyes opened and his heart leap out of his chest. Springing from his bed, his legs were tangled in the sheets as he fell to the floor. From the floor, he could see light from the main room peeking from under his bed, but that wasn't what made his heart hammer in his ears and his blood run cold.

He heard struggling bodies in the living room with the sound of furniture being overturned and disrupted. He heard his mother trying to yell, but they soon became muffled protests.

"Fucking evicted?!" The eerily familiar voice of David was completely sober and demanding. Hearing his mother groaning and struggling, Jon turned to his nightstand and hastily opened the bottom drawer. Scooping up all the socks and boxer briefs that he neatly folded and messily throwing them over his shoulder, he noticed his hand shaking as he grabbed the handgun he had kept hidden all these years.

Living in the gang infested side of Cincinnati, obtaining a gun was as simple as walking to a corner, meeting with the silhouetted man that covered his entire face in scarves, and paying a hefty sum of three hundred dollars.

"You fucking whore! You fuck men and suck cock and make money, yet you don't have the decency to pay the fucking place you fuck in?" He heard his mother give out another cry, but this time, her screams where muffled with something entering her mouth. "It don't taste good? What? Just cause it isn't dick doesn't mean you can't like it!"

Her cries became much louder, the object of her muffles having been removed from her mouth. "Jonath-"

The sound of a bottle hitting flesh echoed throughout the entire apartment and bounced off the walls. In Jon's ears though, it was the only thing he was focusing off. His mother's protests ended abruptly and a deathly wall of silence filled the empty void.

He was never more grateful for those three hundred.

Taking the safety feature off the gun, Jon place the gun in the hem of his sweatpants and made sure to readjust his shirt as he made his way toward the door.

Despite the terrifying situation he wished he was never put through, he obtained a shocking amount of courage. Opening the door without hesitating, Jon stumbled his way into the living room, where his mother was on the floor and David standing authoritatively over her, a shattered bottle of beer in his fat hand.

The sight made Jon's new found confidence shrivel to a bean.

His normally pretty mother had her eyes blackened with repeated hits. Her nose and lip was smeared with her own blood and the tears that flowed out of her eyes did nothing more than make the red fluid seem more vivid. Her brown hair was usually healthy with color, but her dark red blood matted her hair, smeared across her forehead, and pooled around the floor.

He didn't hear his thundering heart in his ears anymore.

He didn't hear his heart at all.

David turned to look at the frozen teen and he fucking grinned.

_He fucking grinned!_

"If it isn't my prodigal child," hearing David call him his son, Jon could almost feel the bile creep up his throat and fill his mouth with the rancid taste. David noticed his queasy state and he smiled. "came to see your mother?" Bending down, David grabbed her by her hair and lowly held her up just enough so Jon could see that she was passed out.

Or possibly dead.

Clutching his hands until his knuckles were white, Jon resisted the hellish urge to reach behind him and pull the gun on the man he absolutely hated, but he found his words instead. "What the _fuck_ did you just do?" Seeing David's sure demeanor falter for only a fraction of a second, Jon knew that his tone was a sharp as steel and as cold as ice.

He never spoke this way anyone before, not even David.

Despite his previous falter, David seemed to regain it and looked unaffected. Shrugging, he gave Jon a bored look. "The whore was screaming, I told her to shut up. The fuck do you think it looks like?"

The blatant language and behavior David showed toward his mother made his cold blood burn. "You shut the fuck up," he called; the anger coursing through his veins heated his blood until it boiled. Walking forward, he was almost sure he looked possessed because David actually looked slightly scared. "You shut the fuck up,_ just shut the fuck up!_"

Not believing that he had approached David this way, Jon was completely baffled at himself when he grabbed David by the hem of his shirt and pushed him harshly. Dropping the bottle that he had assaulted his mother with, David stumbled over her body and fell back, completely in shock.

He wasn't the only one.

He didn't stop his assault there though. In a sitting stage, it was always hard for David to regain his footing because of his obesity. His major disadvantage quickly became the only reason why Jon would be able to talk and act on the man that effectively ruined eight years of his life.

"You stupid shit," he knelt down in front of David and grabbed his shirt again and slammed him against the wall, his eyes clouding with tears. "You ignorant fuck!" At this point, David's wide eyes and mouth opened slightly ajar let Jon know that he was, indeed, scared.

Tears slipped through his eyes and momentarily blinded him. Despite his denseness, David caught on. Sending a stunning right hook to the teen's jaw, David effectively knocked the boy off him.

The numbing pain left Jon groaning, his hand immediately sought out to rub the discomfort away while David struggled to regain his momentarily lost footing. David's breathing became heavy as he panted his heavy extrusion away. Through his wheezing, David managed to squeeze in a chuckle.

"Fucking Jon," he wheezed again, "you always knew how to make me laugh." Bending down, his thick finger buried themselves in Jon's messy mop of hair and painfully hoisted him up.

Just like always.

This time though, instead of allowing David to thoroughly beat him like he always allowed him to, he pursed his lips and winced as he brought one free hand to grip his fat wrist while the other sent an uppercut to his nose.

His original destination was his sagging chin, but after hearing the crunching of his nose and seeing blood spurt out, he was more than content missing.

David dropped Jon and without hesitation, tackled him. Crashing into the feeble glass table, Jon didn't hesitate as the punches, as well as tears, rained down on David's already battered face.

"You ruined my life!"

_One, two, three punches._

"You poisoned anything good we ever had!"

_Four, five, six more._

David's struggling soon ceased to a minimum, but had it not been for the gigantic arms that locked around his chest and threw him away from David effortlessly, he was almost positive that he would have beaten David to death.

He landed on the cold flooring with a groan, but it didn't stop him from flipping over and seeing two muscle bound men glare daggers at Jon.

They were huge. Standing around at 6' 5", both men had to at least weigh a good three hundred pounds. Unlike David, who weight roughly 324 pounds of pure fat, these men had all their weigh in muscle. Bulging biceps the size of tree trunks and shoulders and chests wider than a fucking door. Tattoos were scattered around their huge arms and spread across their massive chests.

The two won the award of scariest gym rats he had ever seen.

Despite his face covered in blood and his nose effectively busted open, it wasn't enough to make David unconscious. Staggering to his feet, he was caught by one of the giants and steadied until he was able to fully stand on his feet.

Bringing a shaking hand to wipe the massive amount of blood his spurting nose was giving, David snorted. "Mauricio, Clyde, bring that shit head to me."

Glaring at the men, Jon didn't even flinch with the terror that was settling in his heart as they stomped their way toward him. He discreetly trailed his arm back and went to grab the hidden gun, but his face paled when he couldn't find it.

One of the gym rats, with slicked back yellow hair, smiled evilly at Jon. "Hide 'em where you know you'll find 'em pretty boy," pulling the gun from behind his back, Jon wanted to collapse to the floor already and accept defeat. The man then released the magazine and poured all the bullets to the floor before he threw the gun toward the body of his mother. His eyes briefly trailed over to his mother and he wanted to let out a whimper.

Her eyes looked directly at him lifelessly. Normally blue in hue, they were just a glassy grey. The blood that was once pouring out of her head now matted to her skin and stuck to the wooden floors. A blood stained paper was balled up a few feet from her, but Jon was smart enough to know that that single piece of paper was the reason for all this.

Though she had never done a single good thing to try and defend Jon when David was beating and touching him, there was always going to be a spot in his heart for her.

Even bad boys loved their mothers.

The gym rats then approached him and violently grabbed him by the arms. Jon bit on his lip to refrain himself from crying when he heard his left shoulder pop out of place. The same man with the yellow hair looked down and smirked at him, knowing full and well that he purposely hurt him.

Dragging him by the arms, their massive height held him dangling above the ground by several inches. Wiping more blood away from his disfigured face, David spit out a glob of bright red on the floor before he brought his undefined arms to cross his chest.

And he just stared at Jon.

Deciding to break the silence, Jon glared at David. "Are you going to say something, you fat piece of fuck?" The painful hold Clyde and Mauricio had on Jon's upper arm and shoulders was past the point of excruciating, but their grip became so tight that he felt the blood being cut off its circulation.

David snorted. Without another word, he pulled his arm back and sent another stunning punch to his face. His face contorted at a weird angle, and he felt his cheek split with the impact, but he rolled his head back to give David a familiar lazy grin.

"Is that all you got Fat Boy? Just a pathetic fucking excuse of a punch?" He knew his words were only making David laugh, but that didn't stop him from sending another punch to the boy's face.

Just like last time, his face whipped at an odd angle, the punch filled his brain with an ache, and more blood poured from its cut. But just like last time, he rolled his head back and once again smiled lazily at him.

"You're nothing Mongabay. You're just a giant tub of fat, shit, and disappointment all rolled into one huge heap of blood and flesh," feeling bold in the more than bleak situation, he hawked a ball of blood straight into David's face. Showing off his blood stained teeth in a grin, Jon continued. "There isn't a demon in Hell that would piss on you. You're too much of a fuck up to even spare urine."

The way David's face shifted from that on an amused look to a furious expression made Jon once again reveal his bloodied grin. He struck a nerve with David and even though he couldn't stop smiling at him while he fumed, he knew, deep down inside, that he was going to get the worst beating of his life.

Already accepting his fate, he allowed a steady rain of David's punches to wash over his face. Jon knew that David wasn't anywhere close to finishing, but he'd be damned if he didn't have the last say in their possibly last argument.

"You know Mongabay... I hope you rot in hell," a thick stream of blood spilled from his busted lips, while another trail that was gushing from his eyebrow joined with the cut from his cheek.

At that, David couldn't help but smile. "Oh boy, don't worry, I won't be alone." Jerking his head to his mother, David smirked. "I'll have you're whore of a mother to keep me company."

Fuming, Jon pushed and strained against his human restraints, but there was no way in hell that the walls of muscle were going to drop him, or even let him move a fucking inch.

"You know what? I think it's time for us to fucking go. Mauricio, grab all her shit from the room and put it in the truck, make sure to take her jem box. She has all the good shit there."

The gym rat with black tendrils of greasy hair nodded and dropped Jon, leaving the other gym rat, Clyde, to support him on his already dislocated shoulder.

"As for you," David turned to Clyde, "make sure shit piece of shit doesn't remember none of this." Giving Jon one last look, David turned around and staggered out the door, and he truly hoped that he never had to see him again.

Dropping him, Clyde kicked the boy in the direction of his mother. Her blood mixed with his and permanently stained his irreparable shirt. Jon turned to avoid making contact with the body of his mother. Even though he loathed himself for not being able to protect her, he could not bring it in himself to look at her lifeless face anymore.

Clyde raised a massive foot and pressed it into Jon's throat, effectively cutting off his air supply. He had the brains to not squirm, not only to not risk losing anymore of his limited breath, but to not give Clyde the satisfaction of seeing him be a bitch.

Scoffing, Clyde pressed his toe harder into his throat. "Because David at one point saw you as a son, he told me not to kill your faggot ass," moving his foot from Jon's trachea, Clyde frowned, "but I told him I'd take care of it."

Coughing, Jon glared. "You're David's bitch too then, huh?"

Clyde smiled at him before bending down. Reaching over the body of his mother, he grabbed the once discarded handgun that Jon had cheaply bought. Toying with it for a few seconds, Clyde still smiled at him. "Nah, just his kid brother."

With that, he quickly grabbed Jon's collar and sent the butt of the gun straight across his cranium.

He landed with a hideous thud on the floor. Barley having the strength to open his eyes, they landed on his mother's once blue, now dead, eyes. The eviction notice lay between them.

They were the last things he saw.

His silent, _"I love you"_, was the last thing he remembered.

Then everything went black.

* * *

Didn't expect this chapter to be so long, to be honest. I had a very simple plot for this one that was less than a 100 words. Why this one came out of be close to be 12,200+ words is beyond me. Guess it slipped.

**Caution:** This chapter is a very important one. Despite it being the longest and the third chapter, it will be the reference to many of the future chapters later on, and a later key. _Hint, what was in italics might of seemed like it didn't belong or seemed out of place, but it's really the most important part._

**Once again, reviews are very much appreciated, plus they let me know if I did well on a chapter or not. So review guys!**

If my story plot and planning is correct, Jon and AJ will finally meet in the fifth chapter!


	4. 2002 (Part 2)

**Disclaimer:** I own nothing. The characters of AJ Lee, Dean Ambrose, and CM Punk are properties of World Wrestling Entertainment. April Mendez, Jonathan Good, and Phillip Brooks own themselves.

**AJ's half takes place directly after chapter three. Jon's half takes place at least a week after.**

* * *

_**Union City, New Jersey - 2002**_

_1:45 A.M._

She sat next to Dean, leaning on him for dear life, as he grabbed her hand and traced random circles with his thumb. "Shh, it's okay. It's okay April, you're safe." The small action seemed to be enough to calm her down that she blew out a breath of air.

In a voice that made Dean's heart grow heavy, she turned to look at Dean. "Could you call my parents?"

There was no way in hell that he could deny her anything at this point. The terrified look on her face and the way her lips twisted together as she tried to hold back sobs told him that he couldn't deny her. Yet, the completely empty void her eyes held sucked all the breath from his lungs.

His chest actually caved in with all the emotion his heart was unsuccessfully trying to hold. Second by second, he was losing his resolve to stand up and stay strong for her. It would only take a couple of more minutes before he completely gave up, ran to her, and cried with her.

"Yeah, of course." Unwrapping his heavy arm from her shoulder, he kept his hand entwined in hers, not wanting to let her go, despite that the phone was located in the kitchen, less than twenty feet away from them.

Letting their hands slide off each others, Dean sighed and went into the spacious kitchen, picking up the sleek phone and proceeded to dial her home phone number.

It was secretly stored in his phone as a saved favorite.

On the second ring, a shaky voice of an elderly woman Dean quickly associated as April's mother answered. "_Hola?_"

In the most plastic voice he ever tried to portray, he happily chirped into the phone, making sure to keep his darkness and depression away from the woman. "Mrs. Mendez?"

Hesitatingly, the woman replied. "This is she, who's calling?" Her accent was thick. It was heavy. It was nothing like the way April's perfect Spanish rolled off her lips and it did nothing to intermixed with her English.

Again, he pushed his voice into plastic. "I am very happy to announce that April, your daughter, has successfully competed in her first match and came out the winner. Because of this sudden victory, Miss April will advance into the next round of the CYW tournament," He was surprised with himself at how he was able to really pull off the tone.

Dean wasn't the only was who was baffled apparently. However, her mother wasn't shocked over the fact that he was spoon feeding lies to her, rather, she voice her shocked clearly. "What? _Mi hija?_" There was a pause in her sentence and the sound of muffled sayings. Dean instantly picture the aged woman covering the receiving part of the phone with her hand while she frantically told her second daughter about the clearly shocking news.

It somewhat angered him. How could the people that were supposed to support and help her have so little faith in her? They obviously didn't know April, the most hardworking, dedicated, and determined wrestler that was probably wrestling in any circuit right now. Peeking his head around the corner of the kitchen, his eyes grew somber when they landed on a balled up April, her knees to her chest and her head buried deep between them.

He didn't want her family to know _this_ April, the one that was sexually violated by the same man she had won her first tournament against. The one that was on the cliff edge of giving up on everything, but more specifically wrestling.

Returning to the shocked woman on the other side of the phone, Dean resumed his fake character. "Yes ma'm! Your daughter has defeated CYW's best male competitor, Kyle Brody, and will now move on to face another challenger from another circuit. Due to this, April will not be coming home for tonight only, as it will take time to arrange this next match with ROH and both parties need to accept the offer," despite his bullshit, it really was true.

CYW did have a tournament.

April did beat Brody.

April did advance.

But April was no longer going to compete. He stretched the truth just a little bit, but he did it for her sake.

"I just wanted to call and let you know that April will be staying with other successful CYW competitors at a hotel near CYW before we depart for Philadelphia, Pennsylvania to ROH headquarters."

_That_ was a lie. Tomorrow, as soon as the clock struck 10 o'clock, he would march his ass over to his father's promotion, barge his office, and shred April's newly inked contract. With her new found success, his father thought it best to finally give April a solid five year contract to CYW that gave her all the benefits that all the other wrestlers had.

Yet the second he let his top wrestler touch April, that agreement had a first class ticket to hell.

"_Espere ... ¿qué? ¿Por qué?_" On her end, he heard more murmured words before he heard a cry of frustration. Suddenly, a newer clear voice rang throughout his head. The fierceness this younger woman had reminded him that April had an elder sister with an attitude of a spitfire. "_Where is April?_"

He couldn't help but be shocked by her unneeded attitude. Balking for a second, he found his composure. "She is currently not here right now. She's speaking to head owner of CYW, but if you like I could ta-"

Nope.

Her sister's dangerous attitude continued to chew his ear right off. "_I don't give a damn! Do you know what time it is? It's two in the fucking morning! You march your ass in there and you ask for April!_"

Turning the corner to look at April, who was watching him with sad furrowed eyes, he was once again at a loss for words. "I... umm.. she..-"

Suddenly, April expectantly held her hand out, motioning for him to give her the phone. Cradling the phone to his neck to block out his words, he mouthed to her,_ 'Are you sure?'_

Giving him an unconvincing nod, he sighed. Bringing the phone back up to his ear, he replied to her angry sister. "Of course. April will be out right now."

Hearing an annoyed huff, Dean handed her the phone, but not without placing the device on speaker. Unattaching her legs from her chest, she slouched on the couch and grabbed the phone.

Clearing her throat, she spoke happily in the phone. The evidence of the crying, the sore throat, the depressive voice, _everything_, was all gone. Had he not seen April thrown across a cheap plastic table, her panties and shorts balled up at her feet, with Kyle Brody kicking her legs open as he positioned himself behind her, he would of thought that nothing had happened at all.

But something _did_ happen. And the image and memory would scar him viciously for the remainder of his life.

"Hey Nessa! What's up?"

Dean knew that it took every single fiber of her being to act happy now, but he knew that if her sister continued to question and ask her about her match, her sudden happy resolve would completely shatter and her body wrecking cries would tell her sister everything.

"_What's up? Are you kidding me? Where in the hell are you?" _By the way that April's brows furrowed together in genuine sadness told Dean that her sister's attitude wasn't helping the her current predicament.

"Why are you yelling? Calm down. Dean already told you, I'm at a hotel. We're leaving for Pennsylvania tomorrow."

Her reply, though it made Dean smile a little, seemed to anger her already pissed sister. "_Leaving? What the fuck April! You tell us you're going to wrestle and then you don't come home! Now you're telling me that you're leaving in the morning? I don't fucking believe it!"_

Seeing as the situation was going to get out of hand very quickly, Dean leaned forward and whispered to her. "Look, April, just give me the phone and I-"

He never finished because she was already on her feet, her face red with anger and pent up tears. Her free hand was balled up in her fist while the other held the phone between the two. "You don't fucking believe shit! You and mom never did! You didn't care this past month when I've been spending all my time at Dean's house, you didn't care when I left to wrestle my first match today, so why the fuck do you care if I didn't come home tonight?!"

Vanessa didn't even hesitate to think. She already had her thoughts with her as she yelled right back at her sister. "_You're fucking him aren't you? That's why you're never here and you don't want to come home! You're fifteen fucking years old AJ! What the fuck are you doing with your life!"_

Hearing her words, both Dean and April froze.

"_You're probably wanting to spend the night with Dean at some dirty ass apartment to fuck him! A stupid ass like yourself would fall for men like that AJ! You know he wants nothing more than what's in your pants! You just want him to love you when he's too stup-_"

"Shut the fuck up." April's voice was so quite that it was barely above a whisper, yet her small statement was enough to make her sister stop ranting. Dean felt the small hairs at the back of his neck stand straight and a cool chill run down his spine. His arms suddenly grew prickly and goosebumps formed on his forearms.

Her voice was so cold that it brought a horrible reaction out of him. He couldn't of even think of what her sister is thinking.

"April?" He asked softly. Her rigid stance and currently unpredictable mental state made him worry about her. Even though it was crystal clear to him that her sister absolutely _did not_ like him, he really didn't give a rat's ass. However, looking at April's constant trail of tears coming down her face, her lips twisted at odd angles as they were entwined in her teeth, and the angry expression on her face, she _cared_.

It made his heart feel just an ounce lighter in the situation.

"Shut the fuck up. I don't want you hear you say something stupid like that again. You don't know him. You don't know what Dean is like and you never will. I'm spending the night with Dean, yes, but nowhere close to what you're referring too. He's been the only thing that has believed in me since we met."

"_AJ, that doesn't me-"_

"He was there for me since _my_ day one. This is why I've never told you or mom that I was wrestling. I know I would of gotten the same bullshit from the both of you. You really think I would of wanted that? What fifteen year old would of wanted their mother and eldest sister to make them feel like shit because she loved wrestling?"

"_'Loved'? What are you say-"  
_

"Don't be surprised when I don't come home later on today. Don't be surprised when I don't come home tomorrow. Hell, don't be surprised when I don't come home this week," Dean watched in horror as April brushed the last fresh tears from her eyes, "just know that during the time that I'm not home or during the time you don't hear from me, I'll be fucking Dean _long and hard. _Because that's all female wrestlers are ever good for."

With one final motion, she took her sister off speaker and ended the call.

Bringing her eyes too look at a more than terrified Dean, she gave him a sad smile before she lost her footing. Feeling suddenly lightheaded, she felt her knees buckle and prepared herself to land on the rough texture of the couch.

Feeling a pair of well muscled arms catch her mid fall, her hear swirled with static.

If her mental stability was scaring him before, than it was completely terrifying Dean now. He understood that the plethora of amount of events that occurred less than six hours ago could give any person a mean whiplash, but he knew that April was tough, but he was currently second guessing that.

"AJ?"

She was barely conscious. Barely opening her eyes, she saw the handsome silhouette that made up Dean and she smiled half-heartedly. Bringing a limp hand to cup his worried face, she grinned lazily. "I'm tired Dean."

"I know AJ."

"Can I sleep?"

"Of course."

"Okay."

Letting her body become limp in his hands, he lifted her up effortlessly and carried her bridal style to his large bedroom. Being careful to not let her head hit anything, he cradled her in his arms as he gently kicked the pried door open. Making his way to his large bed, he placed her down on the ultra soft comforter.

He couldn't help but smile when he heard her groan in agreement with the softness of the bed.

Not wanting to scare her in her hazed state, he whispered to her quietly, "AJ, I'm going to undress you so I can put you in pajamas, is that okay?" He heard her mutter something incoherent and he foolishly took that as an 'okay'.

Going for her jean shorts, he couldn't even grip the dark material before her formerly closed eyes snapped opened and grew wide with panic. "No, AJ, calm down, I-"

"DON'T TOUCH ME! DON'T FUCKING TOUCH ME! STOP BRODY!_ STOP!_" He backed away from her instantly and looked on at her with a hopeless look on his face. She was huddled together in a tight fetal position that looked somewhat painful, but right now, her heart wrenching cries where ripping his already broken heart in half.

"AJ, shh, AJ, it's me. It's Dean. Dean Diamond. Please AJ, it's me..." his voice broke towards the end but he didn't give a damn. Again, in his panic, he did another stupid move and placed a shaking hand on her calf. A stupid attempt on his half to attempt to calm her down.

"Please Kyle, stop! I'm sorry! Just stop! _Please Brody!_"

Tears completely washed over his face as he bawled. Tearing himself away from her side, he back away far enough to watch her thrash violently as she tried to stop her former, yet supposed current, violator from retouching her.

Dean wasn't aware of the fact that he had fallen to his knees, ass touching his heels and hands glued together and pressed to his lips in a manner of silent prayers. Tears and sobs washed over his body and they didn't stop.

He stayed in this position and he prayed. He wasn't a religious man, but goddamn it, he'd pray to every single God that there was to give him the fucking brains to allow him to help April.

So his best self created plan was to just sit there, cry like a bitch, watch unhelpfully, and wait until she had tired herself out. It was a plan that he knew he was going to end up regretting as soon as the sun rose, but he didn't know what else to do. None of his other female friends had been sexually harassed in front of him, so he had no experience or knowledge of what to do. Yet, no other female friend meant more to him than April did.

Ten minutes had passed before they entire loft had become quite. Gone was April's violent screams and scary whimpers. A blanket of suffocation and uneasiness covered the place.

He didn't notice.

Fifteen minutes later, though, it was a small, teeny tiny cry that pierced through the seemingly thick blanket. "Dean?"

Listening to voice, no matter how broken it sounded, was like hearing music for the very first time. Snapping out of his trance, he was on his sore and numb legs and made his way over to her. "Yeah AJ?"

"Dean?"

He made his way of to the edge of the bed, dying to be close enough to comfort her, yet far enough to give her space if she were to have another episode. "Yeah? I'm here AJ, I'm here."

From her fetal position, one by one, did she allow herself to return to a lying position. Stretching a hand out to the empty space amongst the large bed, she patted it. Despite the darkness of the room, the light from his living room loft gave her enough room to search for his eyes. In them, she pleaded. "Please Dean," it was a silent cry for help.

Instantly, he was by her side, slowly reaching for her hand. "AJ?"

Wanting to close the distance between the two, she also reached for his hand. She wanted to prove to him that she truly was fine. At least for right now. "Sleep with me Dean."

Though the request caught him off guard at first, and filled his mind with wildly inappropriate scenes, the desperate need in her eyes proved to him that her request was as innocent as she, in her current state, could make it.

It was only in his mind that he was making it anything but.

"Of course." And without another word, he slipped into the bed gently, watching with hesitant eyes as the bed shifted under the increase of sudden weight.

When he laid himself flatly on his bed, she was quick to press her shuttering body to his. Instantly, he wrapped an arm around her shoulders and pressed her closer to him, almost smothering her with his muscled frame. Burying his nose in her, he breathed in the smell of her bubblegum shampoo and forced himself to memorize it.

"Dean?"

"Yeah?"

"Thank you."

Her sudden answer caught him off guard. He knew he should of just accepted her answer with a tighter hug or even an innocent kiss on her head, but he couldn't stop himself when he questioned her. "What for?"

It took her a few minutes to reply to him. He noticed how spacious and even her breaths were and he figured that she had already fallen asleep. A few seconds later though, her clearly tired and worn out voice caught his attention.

Her words made his heart catch in his throat. "Thank you for not letting Brody win."

He wasn't an idiot. He knew what she meant, but he was really questioning whether or not _he_ was. He took into consideration the fact that she was almost half asleep, and people tend to say stupid shit when they're about to go to sleep, but something that big, something like _that_, it couldn't be ignored.

He finally decided to staple his running mouth together and ignore it. As much as he wanted to say something to her, praise her and scold her, he would allow her to sleep it off. Right now, his eyes were clouding up with tears of sleepiness every time he yawned. After being awake almost a full day, the events that occurred took their obvious toll on both of them.

When he had the chance, when she was awake and completely sober, he'd question her, but by the time he brought her closer to his chest and buried his nose deeper into her hair, they were already fast asleep.

* * *

_**Cincinnati, Ohio - 2002**_

_This is not my fucking bed._

The thought hit him long before he even realized that he was awake. The unusual feeling of ultra plush bedding, yet scratchy blankets, was completely new to him. Not because they were a major upgrade from what he usually slept in, but because_ it wasn't his fucking bed_.

Snapping his eyes wide open, Jon made an attempt to scan his surroundings, but thick bandages were wrapped all around his head restrained his movements. Amid his struggling, a terrible sharp pain exploded in his upper arm near his shoulder. His left eye was completely shut closed and no matter how hard he tried to try it open, it wasn't working.

"Would you stop dammit? You're going to hurt yourself."

A firm voice behind him made Jon stop his struggling, yet the massive amount of bandages didn't allow him to turn his head and see. He felt caged and paralyzed.

_Where the fuck am I?_

"Who's there?" He called. His voice was horse and it was almost painful to talk, but he'd be damned if he spent the whole day here not knowing who was here with him.

"I think that's enough for the bandages," he heard a feminine voice above him. Despite the fact that his right eye was still able to see, the woman's silhouette figure blocked his view of her face. Slowly, he felt the rolls of gauze being removed from his face. "You're bleeding has stopped. Good."

With as much effort as he possibly could, he was able to crack his left eye open for a fraction of a second, but the pain proved too much for him to bear. The light was way too bright.

"_Fuuuccckkk_," he groaned, turning his head to bury his eyes in the pillow to shield them from the light.

"Interesting. I guess that hit really did prove to be a bitch," the woman said. Walking to the night stand located right next to him, he heard a shuffling of bottles and pills being disturbed, he slowly inched his eyes to open. Letting his weak eyes adjust to the now soft lighting, he wasted no time in studying his surroundings.

The room he was in was tiny. No bigger than a ten by ten closet, the only furniture that he saw in the small room was nightstand, a small wooden bureau in the corner of the room, and the bed he was laying on.

"Here, let me help you up. You've been asleep for almost the whole fucking day." Bending down to lightly grab Jon by his shoulders, she payed more attention to his face and how he was dealing with the pain. Setting him up in a sitting position, she leaned him back so he put no pressure on his injured shoulder.

He furrowed his brows as the woman gave him a curious stare. She was in her late thirties with hidden wrinkles around her mouth. Her hair was neatly flowing, combed back to the side in a tired bun, but Jon could see that if she let it hang, it would be enough to cascaded down her back in rich waves.

An addition to the room was a small window that was now draped in soft yellow curtains, giving the room a glow that his eyes could manage. Even with the dullness of the natural light, he could see the woman's icy blue eyes stare at him intently. Her expression, despite it odd for him, made him remember of the kindness his mother showed him at one point in his life.

His mother.

David.

Blood.

The events that occurred the previous night flooded his mind in such an instant that it made his head throb. Despite the mind numbing pain, he dizzily looked at the woman, who furrowed her eyes at realizing his pain. "Where the fuck am I?" Scanning the room again, he hoped that by re-looking, he could make out something familiar.

Sadly though, nothing did. "Who the fuck are you?"

Pursing her lips, the woman looked somewhat sad. "I ain't a doctor, but I can tell that you that you're pain right now. Why don't you lay ba-"

"NO!"

Jon's sudden roar of protest surprised him more than it did her. The effort it took to even think while his mind was clogged in desperation took all the energy out of his body. The amount of breath it took to voice his single thought felt as if though all the air from his lungs was being sucked out.

Shaking her head, the woman clicked her tongue. "Just like your mother, so damn stubborn," she mumbled under her breath. "Look here sunshine, you ain't looking too great. Rest your head and I'll come back tomorrow."

Letting his head fall back to the wall, he groaned. "I'm fucking fine!" His voice rose with anger. He was tired of people babying him. He was seventeen fucking years old. He didn't need to be tiptoed around like five year old. "I don't 'member much from last night, but I sure as hell dealt with my fair share of punches." With said words, the sharp feeling of his shoulder came back to him and he groaned in agony.

Despite his pain and the obvious fact that she cared for him, she raised her brow and twisted her lips in an impressed matter. His words, though they did hold a large amount of pride, meant shit to her in his current condition. "Yeah, sure kid," sighing, she went over to the nightstand and grabbed a clean spoon from the counter. Filing it up with a purplish syrup, she carefully cradled the silver ladle in her hand.

Walking over him, she neared the spoon toward his mouth. His pride was going to be the death of him, so he only glared at the woman and pursed his lips, a childish insult that he wasn't going to listen to a woman that he didn't know. She rolled her eyes at him and sighed. "You feel the fucking earthquake that's in your head?" _Yes. _"Want it gone?" _Hell motherfucking yeah. _"Then drink this shit Jon!"_  
_

The fact that she had actually said his name baffled him. His eyes grew wide with realization and his mouth opened a little. She smiled devilishly at him as she took the moment to force the spoon down his throat and angle the utensil down, pouring the absolutely revolting syrup down his throat.

Taking a step back as she watched him gag, she couldn't stop the smirk that overcame her face as he looked at her with a razor sharp glare. "What the fuck!" Turning his injured self, he unsuccessfully tried to reject the medicine from his body, but the shaking of his body only cause more pain to his head. "Oh lady, _what the fuck_!"

Placing a pale hand on her hip, she raised a brow at him before rolling her eyes and throwing the spoon to the nightstand, which landed with a metallic clatter among the plastic pill bottles. Turning back to took at him, she pursed her lips. "My name is Tiffany Beau," she walked to the corner of the room and dragged a small stool before sitting in front of Jon, "I'm a friend of your mothers."

_The blood that was once pouring out of her head now matted to her skin and stuck to the wooden floors. _

The memory hit him like a freight train, yet it only caused his head to throb more. Despite the on coming migraine he knew he was going to get, he pushed through to glare at the woman for the umpteenth time since he had apparently woken up.

"Mother," he mumbled out, anchoring his arms out to his sides to keep him in position and to prevent him falling over, "where's my mom!"

_Stop fucking yelling you idiot, you're not helping __yourself __for shit._

Ignoring his outburst, she continued. "I'm your mother's..." she trailed off and pursed her lips. Through his hooded eyes and shaggy hair, he could easily recognize the shameful emotion she had on her face, "_co-worker_, in a way."

_Basically, I suck dick, suck men, and do kinky threesomes together. _It was what Jon heard while she was talking, and he really wasn't that far off from knowing what exactly his mother and this woman did.

He was seventeen, not stupid.

Feeling a slight ease from the base of his neck, he blew out a sigh and closed his eyes. "Look lady," he growled through gritted teeth, gripping the sheets in his tight fists, "I didn't fucking ask you _shit! _I asked you where the fuck my mom is!" Toward the ending, he felt his throat close up and clog with a sob that was desperate to escape.

The continued image of seeing his mother's lifeless eyes stare numbly back at him was just too much for him to handle.

Unaware that he was bawling, he resorted to a childish form of a fetal position. Bringing his legs up to his chest, he wrapped his thick arms around them and hugged them closer to him, wanting to feel as closed off and caged as possible.

When he felt a soft hand on his forearm, he snapped.

The last time an unknown person touched him, it was to tell him that he was sorry that he was kicking his family out of their apartment. The last time an unknown person touched him, it led to the brutal beating of his mother and himself. There was no way in hell that he was letting that stupid mistake happen again.

Pulling away violently, he all but roared at the shocked woman. "WHAT THE FUCK DO YOU WANT!?" He sobbed, his hands shooting up to grip ihs hair violently. "WHY THE FUCK ARE YOU HERE? WHY AM I HERE?" It didn't make sense to him; he should be laying on the floor of his former apartment, covered and caked with blood. He shouldn't be in the house of one of his mother's sex friends.

Lowering his voice and ignoring the feeling of the thundering headache, he continued his verbal assault on a woman that he knew was only trying to help him. "_Whhhhyyyy_..._ am I even heereee?_" The way he dragged his words and spoke in a slight sing song voice scared her.

And he knew it.

Bringing his head up to stare mindlessly at Tiffany, tears caking his eyes, he continued to stare. "What happened to my mom?" Again, he changed his tone of voice. Lowering it to sound like an innocent question asked by a child, it only caused her to seem more spooked.

This time though, he refused to say anything but stare.

It took ten mind numbing minutes for the woman to finally break through her nonexistent pride and collapse. Tears that neither knew she was holding came cascading down her face, yet her demeanor was calm. That was what scared Jon the most.

"He left," she began, wiping the tears away with the pads of her fingers, "and he didn't come back."

_David. _Instantly, he knew that she was referring to the leech that was the more than likely the reason why his mother wasn't here. Feeling anger build up in the pit of his stomach, Tiffany noticed this and waved her hands dismissively to stop him.

"David and his younger brothers took everything Jon," giving Tiffany a lost look, one that told her that he didn't believe her, she pursed her lips and nodded. "David made Clyde and Mauricio take everything. They robbed your mother and left. David found the eviction letter when he and your mother came home..."

The way she trailed off in the end let Jon know that she was avoiding the subject of his mother. He just so decided to bring much needed light into the darkened subject. "What happened after that?" Again, playing the idiot almost everyone he knew portrayed him as, he pretended as if he didn't know about David smashing the alcohol bottle into her skull.

It honestly made knowing answers much easier.

Shifting uncomfortably in her seat, she made a feeble attempt in trying to change the subject. "You don't remember?"

_What the FUCK?! _"No, I don't remember. How do you expect me too? What I have on my face and arm isn't just a fucking scratch and bruise lady." It was true. Running his hands down gently over his face, Jon didn't have to be a doctor to know that his face was more than just bloodied and bruised.

With the last of her tears and glared toward Jon wiped away, Tiffany resumed. "He was drinking. Not enough to get drunk, but that's what he was going for. When he came to our _job_," the shame that filled her voice made Jon scoff, "he was pretty pissed, but David wasn't an idiot."

_Lies. David is always an idiot._

"He was already in a pissed mood when they got home, but he discovered the letter, I wouldn't say on accident, but he did. It was laying on the coffee table, so out in the open, that he noticed it instantly."

Jon froze. He didn't touch the letter when that man came to drop it off. He didn't make an attempt to grab it or give it to his mother like he had promised the man; he just left it.

And because he foolishly left the letter on the table, so out in the open, so venerable, he left his mother like that too. Out, open, and venerable to David's terribly mood.

She was either oblivious to Jon's frozen trance, or she noticed, and just didn't care. Regardless, she continued to speak her broken words. "He beat her so badly, _so badly_, that I was scared she was almost dead," Tiffany's eyes once again began to tear up and she made a motion to cup his cheek, but he glared at her hand when she made the action too. Sitting back down in her seat dejectedly, she pursed her lips, "but how David left her was nothing compared to how they left you."

The way her voice broke made his heart flutter, yet his pride of being independent and unattached forced him to swallow. "How the fuck do you know this?" He seethed. The way she spoke about everything, it made it seem like she was there during the entire altercation.

She brought her body in, like she had been slapped, and had the nerve to look slightly offended. Jon glared at her _hard_. His brows furrowed, his lips pursed, and the vein he had in his neck began to bulge out as he waited for her response.

He made sure that he looked fucked up enough so that she wouldn't be able to bullshit anything.

Sighing, she gave in. "When you mother hadn't returned my calls, I went to the apartment to look for her. It was four in the morning Jon, the door was wide open. When I walked in, the first thing I saw was you and your mother on the floor," silent tears fell from her eyes, "blood was everywhere."

Wiping her sudden tears away, she muttered him a simple 'sorry' that he rudely ignored. "I asked William to bring both of you here. Your mom was awake by the time I finished with you." When she gestured to his bandages, he knew what she meant.

Standing up, she walked over to the nightstand and pulled open one of the drawers. Peering over, he spotted two envelopes; one as thin as a piece of paper, while the other was at least two inches thick. Picking up the thin letter, she closed the drawer with her hip and turned to him.

"She told me to not open it. She told me to give it to you the second you were awake. When you were _calm_," there was a hint of scolding in her tone, but he ignored it, "but I guess now is a better time than never."

Handing him the letter with a steady hand, he received it with a shaking one.

Wasting no time in tearing the side of the envelope with his teeth, he hastily shook the letter out. Falling in his lap, the letter was written on simple notebook paper, but the neat scrawl he associated with his mother was written all over it.

Looking up at Tiffany, she only nodded. Lowering his gaze to the paper, he began to read:

_My baby boy,_

_I know I wasn't the best mom in the world. There is really nothing no trying in denying that __I was._

_I knew I wasn't fit to be a mother when you were born. I was only sixteen, Jonathan, when you were conceived. You father was a simple crush from my AP Calculus class. Did you know I was in AP Calculus? I was very good at math._

_I was all about trying to get the best grades and be the best student, but your father distracted me. I don't think I ever loved a man more than I did your father. When I found out I was pregnant, it was during a bathroom break during my AP test._

_I was happy Jonathan. I was happy that I created something that wasn't just a project or an essay that depended on my grades, but something that I created with your father. He was there every single day during the pregnancy. Our parents weren't happy, but we didn't care. Your father was eighteen when he promised that he was going to get us a home where we could all live together._

_This isn't a simple 'I'm sorry for everything I did wrong' letter. On this letter, I will be pouring out my hidden heart and soul to you Jonathan. This letter isn't just 100 words, it's going to be bridging over the lines of 1000. This is a series of confessions. There are a lot of things about me that I never told you Jonathan, and while you read all the things I wished I could of told you, I can only hope that you won't hate me._

_You never met your grandparents, either from my side or your father's side. Your grandfather was Wilhelm Gregory DuPont and grandmother was Penelope Charlotte Fairchild. With unique names like that, one would only guess that they were rich._

_They weren't._

_They were richer than God._

_Elliot Payton Good was only a junior in high school when I first met him. It was during the tour of the school that I ran into him. When I first saw him, I swear to you Jonathan, I fell in love. __Worthington Private Academy was the top school in Ohio when I was attending. It was made for only the best and the richest families in America. So of course, when I met Elliot, I assumed that he too came from a privileged family as well._

_He stood out like a sore thumb in the sea of red uniformed boys. His messy golden hair and steely blue eyes were somethings that caught my attention. Everybody else had the same combed over dark hair and the same brown eyes that bored into ones soul._

_He was such a sweetheart that he took my heart that same day. The more time I spent with Elliot, the more time I drifted away from my own family and my educational studies. When I was with him, he brought out such a reaction out of me that I didn't recognize the woman I had become. The rebellious form of the once picture perfect daughter enthralled me and I loved it; until it was too late. When you were conceived, it was the night he convinced me to disobey my parents and sneak out during the middle of the night._

_Again, when he found out, he promised me so much. He would hold me at night and he would tell me all the things he would buy you when you were born, how he was going to try his absolute hardest to become a good father, and how he was going to make our relationship work despite its differences._

_It was only after you were born that I realized that he lied._

_The broken promise of buying us a house and raising you together went out the window when he felt me. When he left us. You were only a week old Jon, when your father walked out of the hospital and never came back._

_For two years, I tried to stay strong. I was kicked out of the Academy, I was kicked out of my own home, I was kicked out of the lives of the people I loved. All because I fell in love with a boy who didn't love me in return._

_I never cared about all that Jonathan, and you know why?_

_Because of all that, they gave me you._

_I broke though. Eventually, the tremendous stress of having to work day and nights and not being able to take a breath because the rent was coming up, or I had to pay the babysitter double for making her care for you while I was working nights, it became all too much. There was this one man that reminded me so much of your father Jonathan. Just like Elliot, he promised me all the pleasure he could give me with one simple bag._

_Because that was when I was at my lowest point, I caved in and accepted the man's offer._

_At first it was only him that I fooled around with. Then it became his best friend. Then their friends. Then their friends. Then strangers. They paid good money for me to sleep with them, so I didn't complain at first. It was putting food on the table and clothes on your back, so I didn't complain._

_Then I met David._

_He was so persistent with his courting that I couldn't ignore him. Everyday it was a flower until it eventually became a constant bouquet. He seemed sweet enough and treated me much nicer than most men did. When I first brought him home, he was so kind and gentle with you. I had been with him since you were four years old._

_It was only when he touched alcohol that made me regret my decision. He brought other woman home and he forced me to sleep with them. He soon brought his male friends and they paid him to allow him to sleep with me. Then he brought home drugs. I tried so hard to shield you from all the bad things David brought home with him everyday, but failed. __I knew I wasn't cut out to be a mother and instead of leaving David and taking you to find a better home and surrounding somewhere else, I gave up and continued to let David hurt us._

_Last week he took it too far though. I knew I was behind on rent and I was going to pay it. With David taking every dime, it was almost impossible to make an on-time payment. So I had money saved up somewhere else. Sadly, when the eviction notice came, I wasn't able to protect either of us._

_Now I'm here, watching you sleep after Tiffany and William managed to clean you up. I was crying throughout the whole thing, not just because I almost let David take my precious baby boy away, but because I was the one that just stayed there and let all this happen._

_When you wake Jonathan, I won't be there. I won't be in Cincinnati and I most certainty won't be in Ohio. Don't bother trying on trying to find me Jonathan, because there won't be a reason too.  
_

_I've left you, not because I don't want you, but because I need to find myself before I ever allow myself to consider myself a mother ever again. __I love to so much that it makes my heart hurt Jonathan. __I can only hope that you can find it in yourself to not hate me, because I don't think I could ever hate you._

_With so much love,_

_Elena DuPont_

The two sided note left him with his head throbbing again. His mother, despite the way she had treated him for the remainder of his years, was no longer in Ohio. She had left him, knowing that she had done so wrong, yet chose to run away instead of facing her problems.

Yet, how would she face them? She had bottled them up for so many years that they only ended up exploding and scarring her face.

He didn't know Tiffany had taken the letter from his still hands until she placed a much thicker, heavier one, to replace it. Shifting his lost eyes to the thick manila envelope, it had his name written in his mother's messy scrawl.

"She told me to give you this when you read the first one," Tiffany explained warily, unsure of Jonathan's reaction. Folding the previous letter neatly, she continued, "afterwards, I don't know what to tell you Jon."

Placing the letter on the nightstand, she turned to leave. Opening the door, she made a brief stop at the threshold. Looking over her shoulder, she took in his scared and fragile form that made up her best friend's son. Ruggedly tough, a child who raised himself from the streets never looked more scared.

She didn't make an attempt to stop the silent and lone tear from sliding down her face. After which, she turned to leave.

The second Tiffany closed the door, Jon didn't hesitate to open the wide envelope. Popping the side open with his pointer and thumb, his eyes grew wide when he spotted a thick stack of money.

Taking out the stack of hundred dollar bills, Jon couldn't believe his eyes as he skimmed the roll with his fingers, making a weak attempt at trying to count the amount of money. Suddenly, the ruggedly smooth textures of the bills turned thick.

Another thin, but thick, piece of paper was attached to the stack of bills with a rubber band. Legitimately curious, Jon slipped the note out and completely forgot about the money.

Just like before, he began to read the small index card:

_Even though you no longer have a home, you still have a dream._

_Use all of this, all $2000, and achieve that dream._

_I'll only hope that you'll make it one day._

At this point, he was quickly losing the focus on his fixed gaze toward the card. Everything around his eyesight blurred out, yet they only focused on the words that he almost thought he'd never achieve.

_You still have a dream._

"I'll make it one day," he suddenly uttered out, remembering the same words he spoke when David had first pushed his limit and burned his nerves. That day, though horrible, was honestly memorable, and he was glad for it. "Mom, I think I'll make it one day."

He was delirious.

"I think I'll make you proud as a pro wrestler. I'll achieve things nobody would of thought possible," he leaned his head back and sighed. He could feel the remains of his horrible migraine slowly transform into a complex headache, but he shook his head slowly to relieve himself of some pain.

"And the best part about it? I'll make it alone."

And Jon was hellbent on doing just that.

* * *

I just want to clarify, Dean Diamond is only a temporary OC. Despite this, he is also a **_VERY IMPORTANT _**temporary OC. Eventually, Dean is going to fade away and be replaced with Phillip (CM Punk).

Also, don't think I've forgotten about the almighty CM Punk. Even though I've really only focused on Jon and AJ, I really just wanted to build up and bring to light their back story. You know, their life growing up, their pre-their life before the FCW and WWE, etcetera.

As for when CM Punk will be introduced **_officially_**, I'm thinking, approximately, around chapter eight or nine. Again, this is an only approximate. It might happen earlier, maybe later, but what I do know, for a fact, is that he will make such a small cameo much earlier on that most won't catch it.

Hint: _It comes after this one. ;)_

So in order to read the next chapter, where Dean Ambrose and AJ Lee finally meet, and my personal favorite, favorite, follow, and review away!


	5. March 2004

**Disclaimer:** I own nothing. The characters of AJ Lee, Dean Ambrose, and CM Punk are properties of World Wrestling Entertainment. April Mendez, Jonathan Good, and Phillip Brooks own themselves.

**Warning: CM PUNK GALORE.**

* * *

_**Cincinnati, Ohio - March 2004**_

Standing awkwardly in the middle of the large crowd, April brought her sweater and pulled it closer to her shivering frame, the freezing air of Cincinnati biting and gnawing away at her fragile skin.

"I don't know why his stupid ass would move here. New Jersey was fucking perfect." She bit out angrily, pushing her chin in and using her loose scarf as a terrible substitution to warm her ice cold cheeks and freezing nose. The fact that there was a swarm of frustrated and agitated people pushing, shoving and stealing taxi cabs made her clench her fists to stop the giant urge of punching every single one in the throat.

Standing in the freezing cold while she attempted to catch a cab, a rough, and rather rude, shoulder collided with hers. She inhaled sharply and ignored the man who completely cut her off to grab a new taxi. She would remain calm. She thought it best for Dean to see her on good and happy terms, not spending the night in jail for first degree murder.

"Fucking dick." Done with the blatant behavior of the near hundred people she had dealt with since she stepped foot in Cincinnati, she hastily grabbed her suitcase and bag and left the crowded area.

"I'm gonna kick his ass the second I see him." Her hissed words created a small cloud in front of her face, only furthering the fact that it was a little above freezing. Plus it was four in the fucking morning.

He promised her that he'd pick her up as soon as possible when she called to tell him that she had finally landed in Cincinnati. He promised an hour ago. Whatever he was doing better of been well worth her waiting time. When he picked her up, he better manage not only her, but her nasty attitude that came with her freezing self.

Sitting on a lone bench in the middle of the night with nothing but a jacket and cardigan did that to people. Especially very cranky people like April. "Stupid, ignorant, idiot, fuck." She muttered to herself, shoving her hands in to her pockets and leaned back against the bench, clearly annoyed.

And so she sat there, hands in pockets, chin tucked in, and eyes drooping closed. Even though the strip was still relatively busy with people getting picked up and dropped off, there was no reason why she shouldn't try and catch some much needed sleep.

Dean can fucking walk out of his car and get her if he wanted to pick her up.

Sighing deeply, she brought her suitcase and toward her and attached both items to the rail of the bench, not wanting anyone to steal her things if she did manage to fall asleep.

But right when she was finally calming down and her anger slowly subsided her, a voice that managed to always sound happy to her suddenly turned into the most annoying thing in the world.

"April! Hey AJ!"

Opening her eyes one by one, she clenched her fist and jaw as she lifted her head to search for the owner of the voice. More people started to move toward where she sat, followed by an endless wave of taxis and cars, so it was difficult to locate where exactly Dean was.

"AJ! Over here!"

Dean's excited sounding voice was closer, but she still couldn't see him. Standing up and furrowing her brows, she looked around, trying her hardest to not look like a complete freak to the people giving her odd stares. Yet, even when she made circles to try and find Dean, she couldn't see him.

"I'm right here AJ," she gave out a squeak when she felt a cold puff of air hit the outer shell of her ear. Turning around, she was ready to give Dean hell for completely abandoning her at the airport for one plus hours, but when her fiery chocolate eyes landed on her friend, she was speechless.

Two years ago, when she was an anxiety filled wreck of a fifteen year old, she remembered Dean as the long, athletic, muscular sweetheart that helped her cope with a mind scaring moment of her life, but looking at him now, there was no way in hell that this was him.

When he was nineteen, Dean was abnormally attractive. Though she hated his father with a burning passion, yet feared him more than anything, Dean inherited the very best of his crippled father and late mother. A unique mix of blond and red hair once intermixed beautifully in neatly combed waves, with a pair of dazzling green eyes that were so vivid they looked fake. Jaw dropping facial features and a smile that could light up anybody's world.

But that was before Dean fully hit puberty.

Standing before her was no longer the 5' 10" athletic, good looking, sweet hearted jock. Now, it was a full-fledged Adonis.

If April foolishly though that Dean couldn't get more attractive, then she had no idea of what she was talking about.

Standing at an approximate 6' 4" inches, Dean smiled down at her with his hypnotic emerald eyes. Even with the poor lighting of the airport and street lights, April could see that his eyes were no longer bright with color, rather rich in a forest green. His once shoulder length hair was now completely cut off. Instead having his hair tied back, the oddly attractive red blond hair was trimmed neatly into a fashionable comb over.

Still sporting his swoon worthy features and gorgeous smile, she also noticed that Dean bulked up _a lot_. Before, his arms where thin with muscle, and while he had bulk, his body type was that of a high school swimmer. Accompanied with his huge growth spurt, he had an apparent muscle growth as well.

In the tight Guns 'N' Roses sweater he was wearing, bulging muscles made the piece of clothing look as if it would rip at the seams. His shoulders were broad and large traps were placed heavily upon them. His chest was thick and firm with muscle and April didn't notice her heart skip a beat.

"Dean?"

His face splitting smile made her heart skip another beat

Without warning, he enveloped her in a bone crushing hug. He had hugged her with the same intention numerous times before, and it never hurt her then, but with his added plethora of muscle, April was almost certain that Dean would literally break her in half. Not to mention the fact that he dangled her dangerously high.

"Air... Dean?" She managed to squeak out. Feeling him get the message, he lowered her to the floor and released her sheepishly.

A soft smile graced her face as she looked at him warmly. He trailed his arm to grip her elbow attentively and she gently placed her hand on his bicep. "Sorry, I mean, I'm just really happy to see you," he offered lamely. Being happy to see her was an understatement. He was waiting for this day since they arranged it a little over a month ago.

Giving him a quick once over, seeing him in the shirt thin sweater suddenly reminded her of how cold she was. Then it reminded her of why she was freezing her ass off. Then it reminded of Dean abandoning her at the airport for close to two hours. Even if it was an accident, or if he really did leave her intentionally, breaking a promise was breaking a promise.

She was being childish, she knew it, but she didn't care. Furrowing her brows angrily at him, she didn't hesitate to use all her strength to the hand which she sent across his face. When he didn't even bat an eye afterwards, she knew that her hopefully meaningful slap was sadly pathetic.

After his initial shock wore off, he balked. "What the fuck April?"

Glaring at him, she shoved her finger into his chest deeply. "What the fuck Dean? I got here at two thirty in the morning and you just so happened to decide to leave me here?" She was acting like such a five year old that she wanted to kick herself, but she was too fucking stubborn to swallow her pride.

Her words shocked him, but only for a second. While fear flashed through his eyes, her words finally processed and registered in his mind that he couldn't stop himself from laughing. "Oh April," he laughed, his hearty guffaws echoing throughout the area. April tried to smile apologetically to all the people giving the two stares, but when Dean threw a heavy arm across her shoulders, she snapped her eyes to look up at him. He only smiled happily down at her, "you'll see why."

With that, he ushered her along and scooped her bags along the way, being swift and careful with the latch April had applied earlier. Navigating their way to his awaiting car, April took the opportunity to take advantage of his warmth. She didn't stop herself from wrapping an arm around Dean's chiseled waist and burying her cold nose into his firm chest.

Dean couldn't stop himself from smiling brightly as he enjoyed the brief moment of complete happiness.

April was back in his life, and even though it was only for this week and her upcoming birthday week, there wasn't anything on this Earth that would stop him from enjoying the time he spent with her.

"Are you okay?" She rolled her eyes and turned her back, resuming her focus on the latest PWI magazine she had found in Dean's room.

"Everything is peachy Dean. Why are you asking?"

"Because you've been locked up in my fucking room for the last two hours and you've refused to come out and talk to me!"

His answer only pissed her off. "Then fucking think before you speak Dean!" She fired at him through the closed door, flipping the pages of the colorful magazine, the pictures of the freshly debuted Randy Orton never failing to distract her from the distraught man behind the door.

She heard him groan before a loud thud was heard. For a second, she stopped breathing, but when she felt Dean's angry fists banging against the door, she couldn't contain her annoyed snarl.

"Just think about it AJ!"

She loved Dean. She really did. He discovered her, he trained her, he saved her, he helped her, and he was everything to her. She really considered him a best friend, but _goddamn!_ He had his moments where she honestly believed that he didn't have a filter. Or he did, and he didn't give a fuck about what his words were doing to her.

She let the magazine slip through her fingers and she unconsciously brought her knees up to her chest. She then realized that she had balled up her hands into impossibly tight fists. So tight, in fact, that she felt her nails draw blood from her palm.

"AJ?"

_"He's not there anymore April. He's gone. He's been long gone."_

"Baby, talk to me. April?"

_"It's just to see my father again. They're doing an event out here."_

"I'm gonna break the door down Ape."

_"You're not wrestling for them anymore. You never will."_

"April?"

_"You're safe."_

Shaking her head slightly to bring herself out of her mental tremor, she finally began to respond to Dean's quickly annoying pleas. Reaching up to unlock the door, she moved to the side to allow him to open the door, but she still remained in her upright fetal position.

She didn't realize his reaction until her unfocused eyes were forcefully moved to meet his scorching green eyes. It was then did she notice that his eyes were red rimmed.

He had been crying.

"I'm sorry. I'm so sorry. I was be-"

She honestly hated the word 'sorry'. Dr. Herrera had told her that she was going to grow to hate the word and that possibly nothing would change her mind about it. Too many post-traumatic events had happened and 'sorry' was the word that managed to be thrown around during it.

Sorry didn't mean shit to her anymore.

"Stop Dean. I get it. It's your dad, and you love him. Despite everything, he's still your dad."

"I didn't mean to bring it up, hon-"

"You're going. I wish I could say that I'm over everything at this point but I'm not. I can't go." She really wanted to take back her words when she saw his already broken face crumble.

She came to Cincinnati to visit Dean, to enjoy the three weeks she was going to have with him, before she made her permanent move to the new apartment she managed to rent in Union City. She didn't want to be the one that made these three weeks hell.

He sighed and sat next to her, gently holding her hand and making soothing circles on the back, it was his way of calming her. "My dad is just super excited. Ever since he created CYW in 1998, he always wanted a sister promotion. Last month, CZW returned his calls and now they're practically sister alliances."

Even though she wanted to berate and angrily yell at Dean for bringing up his worthless, piece of shit, good for nothing, father, she couldn't help but feel for the man. Making it big in the professional wrestling world was difficult, and getting a promotion recognized was almost as difficult as getting a promising wrestler known.

"Good for your dad, I guess." While her words held no happiness, the small smile she did give Dean let him know that she actually did mean them. He sighed happily and threw a heavy arm around her shoulders, bringing her closer to his large chest.

"You know what'll make you feel a thousand times better?"

"The newest X-Men comics that came out last week?"

He snorted and placed a sweet kiss on her forehead. "Rick Dragen will make you feel better."

She briefly pulled away from him and gave him a weird glance. "I'm not into porn, so no thanks."

Chuckling, he pulled her to his chest. "And neither am I, but his bar is the best that Cincinnati has. Go in there and I'll promise you that you're going to love today."

Getting out of Dean's rather suffocating hold _and_ home did sound appealing, though she wasn't much of a drinker, or social butterfly. Moving her head to look up at him, she cocked her head to the side to give him a curious look. "You promise Dean?" She searched his eyes for any and all signs of him keeping his promises.

When he smiled warmly at her, it left her fully content. "I promise you April."

* * *

_**Rick's Corner - Cincinnati, Ohio - March 2004**_

"I can't go in Dean! I'm seventeen and not legal!" She pulled the thin cardigan across her chest to shield herself from the nonexistent air. Actually, she was just trying to make the sweater long enough so it could cover her entire body, so none of the lingering eyes of buzzed men could see her.

Less than three hours ago, the idea of actually going to a bar and having fun did sound real nice to her, but she would of thought that Dean's place of choice would have look _so_ much better than the seemingly run down brick building with sultry dimmed neon lights located next to an abandon gas station.

Dean groaned and pulled her aside, pressing her against a wall as he shielded her from any curious eyes. "I've known Rick Dragen since my parents split. He's been my dad since I've moved out here. Trust me AJ, you'll be fine."

Glaring at him through squinted eyes, she licked her slightly chapped lips stubbornly. "Again, I'm seventeen. I don't drink Dean!" She really didn't. She never had an alcoholic drink in her life, and from what Dean had told her, she never really wanted too.

She could tell that her refusal to openly enjoy her birthday was starting to piss him off. She wasn't a fan of flashy things, so she absolutely refused Dean when he suggested she wore a dress and some heels. It took at least half an hour of screaming at each other until they reached a deal.

She would wear a dress as long as she was allowed to wear her new Chuck Taylors.

In reality, she would of much rather of spent the day in sweats and a t-shirt while they ate chocolate ice cream cake and read the latest X-Men comics. But here she was, the pretty floral print dress and the newly bought beige cardigan seemed to match her Converse clad feet.

"I'm not telling you to sit back and drink yourself to death, but I am asking you to relax and enjoy yourself," he began to pull away from her and he reached down to tug her hand. He didn't stop his smirk and wink. "Even if it is illegal."

She glared at him as he managed to peel her away from the wall. Hand in hand, they walked up the entrance of the bar, before a hefty bouncer, who was letting people in freely, spotted and stopped them.

Placing a beefy hand on Dean's muscled shoulder, the bouncer glared openly at AJ. His beady eyes bore into her head and she couldn't help but to turn her head. Already did she hate her birthday.

"I need some I.D. for the girl."

_Fuck! Fuck! Fuck! He's gonna get caught! I'm gonna get caught! WE'RE gonna get caught!_ She was mentally panicking and made several glances at Dean, wondering if he was as scared as she was.

But his handsome face was as calm as ever when he smiled. "She doesn't have any."

"Admission is only for those 21 and over."

"I know."

A nasty glare then overcame the bouncer's face. Looking at AJ with such disgust that it made her eyes water, he leaned towards Dean. "Then get out." The way he spat at Dean's face made AJ grip his hand impossibly tight. How she wanted to leave and curl up into a ball and just cry.

"Dean Diamond? Is that you?" A thundering voice rang from within the noisy bar. At hearing the voice, the bouncer instantly straightened up and put a bored look on his face as a muscled man walked out to the three.

"Tautkus, what the hell is happening out here?!" Graced with a porn-star stache and an evil forehead vein, the man she quickly realized as Rick Dragen was nothing less than fucking _terrifying_.

The way the bouncer shrunk solidified that Dragen wasn't one to be messed around with. But after he was through visually murdering his bouncer, he turned to give Dean an almost mushy look that she quietly sniffled her tears away.

"Your bouncer was refusing to let us in. I told him about April, but he wouldn't listen." At the mention of her name, AJ snapped her head back and looked fearfully into the eyes of Dragen, who only looked at her sympathetically. The three then began to seemingly argue, but she wasn't paying attention.

She was frozen.

Had Dean, the one person she trusted more than anything, told his man, Rick Dragen, an absolute stranger, what had happened to her? What the living nightmare in Kyle Brody almost did to her? She couldn't help but to look up at Dean's frustrated face.

_No, no. He wouldn't do that. He wouldn't do that. Not to you._

Then why had he mentioned her to the bouncer?

A reassuring hand on the small of her back made her bring her eyes to meet Dean's. The way his dark brows furrowed together in concentration let her know that he wasn't the type to run around the world, telling everybody her deep dark secret.

"Come on AJ, you'll have fun. You won't get in trouble and nobody will start trouble with you, I promise." The feeling of his warm hand and smile touched her entire body. A warm shiver ran down her spine as Dragen, a man that was previously looking at his employee with looks that could kill, held the double doors to the bar wide open with a genuine smile.

For the first time since Dean had mentioned the idea, she was almost determined to enjoy tonight.

* * *

She absolutely hated today.

When she had first entered the bar at least half an hour ago, she was determined to break out of her thick anti-social bubble and make friends and have fun.

But her bubble proved _way_ too thick. Not only that, but the only people that were in the bar were at least a good twelve years older and twelve drinks drunker.

Even Dean, who promised to protect her from all the evil's that lurked around the bars, was currently playing beer pong with people he met no less than ten minutes ago. From her lonely seat at the bar, she swirled her glass of Pepsi absentmindedly and sighed.

The placing of a bottle and dirty rag in front of her alerted her of a presence and, in a blink of an eye, she went from bored out of her mind to suddenly hyper-aware of everything.

The man behind the counter jumped slightly at her sudden change in character and let out a small chuckle. "Geez girl, warn a man before you decide to go into robot mode."

Looking up into the eyes of Rick Dragen, AJ smiled sheepishly. Shifting her head so a curtain of hair shielded some of her face, she blushed at him. "Yeah, um, sorry... about that."

Looking at her while he cleaned the granite counter, he pursed his lips. "Aren't you the girl that Dean brought it?"

Lifting her head up sadly, she sighed. "One and only."

He frowned. "Then why aren't you with him? Look at the boy, he's having fun, drinking himself to sleep and talking to the best of them," Rick took the time to lean on his elbows and stare at her expectantly. "So why aren't you doing the same?"

April raised her brows at the man's boldness and it was then that she noticed how dark his eyes were. Her whole life she was used to people with colored eyes. Her mother and sister had hazel, almost all her teachers in Union City had green, Dean had green, and the He Who Must Not Be Named had blue.

It never really struck her how long she had gone without seeing normal brown eyes. The rich chocolate color matched his dark mustache and curly hair.

Sighing again, AJ swirled the glass full of soda. "Don't you think that if I really wanted to have fun, I would be drinking soda?"

At that, Rick chuckled. "I know a guy who enjoys Pepsi as much as the next guy. He's a non-alcoholic and isn't about _that_," he pointed to where Dean was openly chugging a mug of beer. "Life, yet still manages to have the best time too."

"Yippee for him." She said sourly, taking slow swings of the soda. It was still cold and still acidic, so it burned her throat as she drank it.

"Look baby girl, I think Dean brought you here to have fun. From what everyone tells me, they don't leave this place unsatisfied."

April smiled a little before she brought the Pepsi to finish it off. "Thanks Burt Reynolds, I'll keep that in mind tomorrow when he has a hangover that could kill."

Giving out a hearty laugh, Rick smiled widely at her. "I'm just letting you know. If a moment persists, take a chance and go for it. Have fun, you know?" Pushing the bottle of Pepsi to her, he smiled again. "I know you're under eighteen and there is a possibly of my ass getting canned, so drink your heart out to the soda." Then he winked at her and left her alone to her rambling thoughts.

She often found herself wondering how her life would of been if she hadn't headed straight back into her locker room that day. Time and time again, the same questions proved more disturbing than the original, but there was always one that overpowered the rest.

Who would of April Mendez have been if Kyle Brody hadn't attacked her?

Would she still have been the anti-social freak that she was today? One that was terrified of the smallest forms of unwanted conversation with people she didn't know? One that hadn't had real fun since... forever?

Turning her head to glance at a completely enjoyed Dean, she couldn't help but sigh with desire. She was always jealous of the fact that other people made friends so much easier than she ever tried to do. How did they do it? Did it come naturally? Did they force it?

And why couldn't she do it?

Too caught up in her thoughts, she didn't feel the chair next to her being pulled out until the man's deep voice and distinguishable accent literally spooked her. "A little young for you to be in here, no?"

Jumping slightly, she turned around and looked frighteningly into green eyes. For a fraction of a second, she thought it was Dean because of the color, but when she took the emerald orbs and placed them on the face of the unknown man, it was someone entirely different.

The first thing she noticed was the lip ring. Never had she seen anybody, much less a man, with a piercing. It somehow seemed to fit him. His growing scruffy facial hair made him look just that much tired and a lot older than what he really was.

Long and messy tendrils of previously dyed blond hair now turned to their natural root color contrasted greatly against his brown scruff, and from underneath the tight black shirt, she could see the tips of colored tattoos from his sleeves.

He was strangely handsome.

"I... um- I'm so-" She stammered and cut herself off, honestly not knowing what to do. Turning around, like she had done with Rick, she shifted her hair to shield her from his curious stare. She reached for the Pepsi bottle and poured herself from more, just to occupy her from the man sitting less than two feet away from her.

She heard him chuckle, yet she refused to turn to look at him. He terrified her and she didn't know why.

She blamed it on the lip ring and tattoos and hair.

"Can I have some?" Taking in a deep breath, she pushed her hair back and looked at him, only to find him looking at the acidic beverage in her hand with interest.

Without a word, she carefully slid the liter bottle to him, yet she refused to make eye contact. "Thank you," she could hear the smile in his voice and she wanted to slap him.

"So, how old are you?"

Maybe the fact that she had a very short temper was one of the reasons why she couldn't make new friends. Snapping her head to look at the man, she glared at him with fire in her eyes. "Legal." It was a lie that stumbled out of her mouth before she could catch it, but she didn't care.

She expected him to be taken back by her attitude. Everyone else did. She expected him to fire back with a shit words and tone. Everyone else did. But when the man raised his brows and smirked, she couldn't help but be baffled.

"Interesting. You look no older than 17."

_Fuck._

Knowing that she had been caught, but also keeping in mind that the owner knew her and didn't give a fuck, she turned back to the bar and swirled her soda. "Just about."

"You know, if you just wanted Pepsi, you could have gone to the liquor down the street."

She raised a brow and turned to look at him, eyeing his glass full of the same soda. "Could say the same for you."

"But see, I'm legal."

"But see, I don't care." This time, though, when he cracked out a grin and chuckle, she didn't fight the small smile tugging at her lips. Even though she still didn't feel comfortable with this man, she was enjoying their playful banter.

"What's your name?"

Flipping her hair over her shoulder and staring at him with a confused grin, she bit her lip and pondered. Since her departure with CYW, she had made sure everyone addressed her as Miss April and this man was no different. With a small smirk, she turned her whole body towards him and held her hand out. "Miss April."

Matching her smirk, he took her hand and shook it. "Mister Punk."

She let out a small laugh at hearing his name. "_Mister Punk?_ Are you serious?"

He smiled. "No, not really. It's just Punk, but since you threw the Miss at me, might as well come at you with Mister. Are you really _Miss_ April?" She took back her hand and nodded, her eyes watching for his next response. "Then there you go."

"Still, _Punk_, that's an interesting name. Do you have a birth name or did your mom just name you Punk?"

He grinned at her and shook his head, his hair brushing and falling past his shoulders in calm strokes. "Yeah, she gave me a name. I just like Punk though."

"Why?"

Again, he grinned. "'cause I'm a Chick Magnet Punk."

Laughing, she shook her head and sipped at her forgotten drink. "So Chick Magnet Punk, since you already discovered that I'm 17, what about you?"

She had expected him to say at least thirty because his facial hair and lip ring, but his answer completely surprised her. "Well Miss April, I'm 26 years young."

She knew her laugh let him know that she didn't believe him because she really didn't. The age aura this man gave off soared over thirty, but she only ate the rest of her laughter away with a smirk. "Are you from around here?"

He sighed and leaned against the counter, bringing his drink to his lips to sip. "Nope, Chicago born and raised," he turned to place the now empty glass on the table before he looked at her. "What about you? You're obviously not a regular 'cause I bet this is the first time you even entered a bar, so where are you from?"

"From Union City actually. I'm here to visit my trainer." She thought it more logical to refer Dean as a trainer than a friend. Even with his tattoos and body piercings, he looked actually really athletic.

"Coming here to Queen City from Union? That must be some serious friendship you and your trainer have. What's he training you in?"

This time, she actually balked. Even with all the shit professional wrestling came with, note: Kyle Brody, she absolutely loved it. Like a bad relationship, she, along with Dean, went to therapy because of it. Dr. Herrera worked some serious magic that helped her heal. There were days that she did have an episode, but those were very few, very short, and very far in between.

Even still, she was scared to mention her love and involvement in professional wrestling to another man that wasn't Dean. The last time she had done that, she was abused for close to six years and sexually assaulted by an overly jealous team mate.

Shifting uncomfortably, she let out a broken cough. "Uh... professional wrestling." Casting her gaze downwards, she stared at her fidgeting hands and played with her fingers while she waited for one of two things to happen.

One, for him to leaned over and berate, judge, and fill her mind with all the negative that she had heard in CYW.

Or two, for him to just get up and leave.

When he didn't do either, she slowly peeked at her side to see him staring at her wide eyed and completely astonished. She liked to call herself hyper-aware of everyone's emotions, but she wanted to punch herself in the face for actually thinking that his green eyes held respect and even the slightest form of pride.

"I think you're my new favorite person."

His response caught her off guard and honestly surprised the shit out of her. "What?"

With raised brows, he nodded enthusiastically at her. "You a pro wrestler?" With slight hesitation, she nodded her head. "I though you guys were a dying race. I really don't know when the last time I saw a female wrestler was. What promotion?"

The question took all the breath from her lungs and it broke her heart. Her mind momentarily fuzzed out, but she managed to force the three letters out. "CYW."

Her change didn't seem to faze him though. He actually seemed surprised by her answer. "Don't be offended, but Diamond allows girls to wrestle? I kind of always thought him as sexist."

_He is. He's a piece of fucking shit and so is his promotion. It trains nothing more than young boys to become abusive sexist assholes. They can all burn in hell._ "I managed. It wasn't easy, but I managed. I was released by Diamond's kid, actually," pointing over his shoulder to a hysterical Dean, her cheeks turned red with embarrassment. "He's training me at Diamond's Den."

Turning around, he nodded his head impressively. "Diamond's Den is a pretty hard academy to get into. I'm impressed."

She beamed happily at his compliment. Maybe people like Punk were the reason why certain people seemed to ooze out charisma. They were natural smooth talkers that kept conversations going for well past an hour and the recipient would probably never get bored them talking.

That's how it was for the next hour and a half. While she noted that he kept himself reserved and somewhat guarded, he didn't hold back on his love for professional wrestling. How he was in love with it as a child, how he grew up idolizing Macho Man, how he began wrestling at the age of fifteen, and how he worked his ass off to sign by any wrestling promoter.

Purposely leaving out the abuse and sexism she faced during her time in CYW, she told him pretty much the same thing. And unlike the handful of people that looked at her like she was a tiny child, or if she was serious with her chosen profession, Punk actually looked at her with so much relation in his eyes that it a random sob got stuck in her throat.

They didn't realize that time had literally flown over them until a small noise coming from his phone broken them from their intense conversation. Grabbing his cell, Punk looked at the time and she wanted to laugh at his shocked expression.

"Look baby girl, I don't know about you, but _my_ trainer is going to whoop my ass in less than five minutes if I don't book my ass to the arena," hastily getting up, Punk pulled out his wallet and threw a twenty on the counter, which a grinning Dragen happily took. Punk turned to look at her and he smiled. "It was really nice getting to know you Miss April. You don't know how comforting it's been to actually talk to someone other than Colt about this kind of shit."

AJ beamed at him and she laughed. "You know what? Same here. You can only talk to Dean so long before you want to strangle his ass." She smiled brightly when Punk laughed along with her.

"Well, I'll see you around next time; you're actually pretty chill to talk too." It didn't bother her in the least that he didn't ask for her number, because in reality, he didn't need it. She had this fuzzy feeling deep down in her gut that she was probably wasn't going to see him any time soon, and it really didn't bother her.

With a laid back smile, she waved him off. "Bye Punk."

"Bye April." A soft smile graced his face before he turned and walked out of the large doors.

* * *

Combing her hair over her shoulder, she readily grabbed her phone to check the time.

11: 25.

It was really getting late. Even though Dean had told her less than four minutes ago that he was nowhere ready to go home yet, he, drunkenly, assured her that he was fine and having tons of fun. Keyword, tons.

She assumed the way he was sucking the tongue out a pretty blond was his definition of having_ tons of fun_. She didn't know she had sighed with desire until she stared at the double doors leading out into the streets, replaying and clinging onto her previous conversation with Punk.

The twenty six year old man had honestly been one of the most down to Earth guys she had known in a while. In their hour and a half long conversation, AJ already noted that he was far more level headed than Dean, and she had thought Dean had pretty good judgment.

He read comic books, he loved video games, but one thing that made them connect was the fact that they adored wrestling.

While the subject of wrestling was a dangerous topic for her to venture into nowadays, his enthusiasm and obvious passion for the sport and business brought out the once dedicated wrestler in her. The way he talked about his love for it surprised her. Never had she met anyone more dedicated to professional wrestling than Punk was.

For a minute, she tried to see if she was as passionate as he was, then agreed that they were just around the same level. Not even Dean was as dedicated to wrestling as she and her new found friend in Punk was. But then again, she was wrong.

Feeling a presence sit beside her, her heart started beating just a little faster. _Did he really come back?_ She didn't want to turn her head and be openly excited that Punk had returned, so she decided to play it cool and let him come to her again.

Only, when the person next to her gave out a fake cough in a rough voice, her ears confirmed the fact that it wasn't Punk. When she turned her head, she didn't meet Punk's emerald green eyes.

They were an impossible icy blue.

She ripped her eyes from the bright eyes to stare at the face of their owner. Shaggy blond hair that had been apparently slicked back with clustered strands carelessly falling to cover his eyes. However, this stranger had a younger, plumper; baby-face that told her that he was around her age. From her angle, she could see a shiny earring that reminded her of Punk's lip ring. With lips twisted together in a satisfied smirk, he gave her a look that made a shiver run down her spine.

Another dangerously attractive stranger.

"Hey," the hairs on the nape of her neck stood at attention at hearing his impossibly rough voice. He seemed to notice this and he smirked. "I'm Jon Moxley."

Hearing his name alone made her arms rise with goose bumps, her heart race faster, and body feel a thousand times hotter.

His name alone made her mind go through a panic.

His name alone put her body through physical hell.

And his name alone made her want to get to know him just that much more.

* * *

BWAHAHAHAHAHAHA.

I'm evil, I know. To be honest, this chapter was really getting really long for just AJ's part, so I decided to cut it off there and continue it from Jon's third person POV.

I want to thank everyone for the feedback, it was very much appreciated and really helped me out! So if you want to leave a review, that's great. If not, that's cool too, just as long as you're enjoying the story so far. :)

I hope you all have a wonderful President's Day!


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